With Sea, Soul, and Stars above (star piece quest)

[The Humble Sage]

Waves reflect the passings of life. The swelling momentum carrying the hapless wanderer hither and yonder on flights of nameless fancy. Only to be crashed upon unknown shores with resounding and unequivocal finality.
 
The Sage raced across the ocean with a renewed sense of progress. For the first time in the short while he had found himself in this uncanny world, he was achieving a goal, rather than simply reacting to whatever new bizarrity the Verse felt compelled to saddle him with next. He checked the crude map he had been given by the old Bloodlance, Issac Carter. Checking the sun to reorient himself, he eased off the motor. The speedboat he had been given by Noodle slowed down and began to rock as the waves reasserted their dominance over the motion of the craft. Carter had explained that the concept of North was now more-or-less invented, since compasses and the like did not have much use. Still, direction could be established by convention alone, and so the Sun and stars marked the way for any naval exploration.
 
He had drifted slightly farther west than he wanted, the Sage decided after a moment. He was hugging close to islands, hoping from shoreline to shoreline in short stretches. Noodle had explained how the boat was not built to handle any sorts of extreme conditions, and the Sage was unfamiliar with the vehicle enough that he would be helpless to repair it should it become damaged.
 
He was calling in a lot of favors he hadn’t earned yet, he mused. Dasha had explained numerous of the Omniverse’s oddities to him, as well as sheltering him from the Imperial forces of Costa del Sol. Noodle had helped immensely in the recovery of his bullet wound, which seemed to be on the mend with altogether surprising speed, and had summoned this much more manageable vehicle for his trip. Issac Carter had taught him the islands and routes of the Vasty Deep, without which he would not have his present course.
 
One day he would need to repay all these debts. But first he would need to gain a position where he had something to offer in return. A creditor could be stretched with the right tongue, but eventually he would need something to show for his efforts.
 
After realigning his course, he set off again, bearing towards Blue Flame Island with all speed. Carter was right, he would not be able to pilot this craft through either a blockade or a smugglers’ route. He needed a professional, and Bilgewater was famous (infamous?) for having the best according to Carter. He was only about a day’s journey away at this point, and the weather had proved far more cooperative than he had previously encountered. It seemed likely that he would arrive at Blue Flame Island without issue.
 
Or not… he thought, as the speedboat refused to re-start. He couldn’t fathom what could be wrong with the machine, but then, he hadn’t learned how it worked beyond simply the piloting mechanisms, so attempting to repair the device would be next to impossible. The Sage smacked his dueling cane on the bow of the speedboat in frustration. Nothing would ever go swiftly anymore. This world seemed determined to throw obstacles into his path at every turn. Like an amused child placing rocks before a burdened ant. He thought bitterly, again the grinning face flashed in his memory. Precisely that.
 
After a moment’s deliberation, he began to summon an oar. Abandoning the boat would be a rash decision, perhaps it simply needed a rest, then it would start working again. It reminded him vaguely of the steam-powered devices some of the more eccentric scholars had been experimenting with back home. Perhaps the machine had simply gotten clogged by something?
 
Newly-fashioned oar in hand, the Sage attempted to paddle his way towards the nearest island. It was small, a clump of trees, boasting one of the thinnest stretches of beach that the Sage had seen. He hoped he wouldn’t have to spend very long there. The Speedboat beached, and the Sage hopped off into the surf. His nose wrinkled as the ocean waves rushed in to fill his boots, but began dragging the boat further ashore to make sure it didn’t get carried off. The boat was heavier than he would have guessed, and after a few feet, he could neither drag the boat further ashore, nor push it back into the deeper water. He would have to wait for the tides to rise, that would be annoying.
 
Boots squelching, the Sage made his way onto the island, deciding to give it a cursory glance before examining the boat. He didn’t want any unnecessary surprises, and deserted islands were notorious for not actually being deserted. This one seemed to actually live up to his namesake however, as nothing stirred in the copse of palm trees but a few errant birds resting their wings before continuing on their journey. The Sage looked up at them from the shade of the copse. You have no idea how good you have it, my winged friends. You have no need of beast, boat or road to get you to your destination, simply an open and inviting sky. Turning his attention back to his search, the Sage traversed the rest of the island. Satisfied that this place was indeed uninhabited, the Sage returned to the shore where he had first arrived, only to find his boat was being inspected by two figures of a very aquatic persuasion.
 
The Sage dropped down to a crouch, watching from the underbrush of the island, as the two silver-scaled fish-men examined his boat. He had been gone all of what, fifteen minutes exploring the island, and his vessel had already been found by potentially dangerous individuals. The smaller of the two beings looked relatively unthreatening, but the larger one had a well-made spear that seemed to have been fashioned out of some sort of coral. The Sage cursed as the smaller fish-man pointed to his tracks, heading up the beach and into the copse of the island’s center. The Taller fish-man turned to look, his dorsal tail-head flapping behind him. They conversed briefly but the Sage was too far away to make out their words. The larger of the two fish-man began making his way up the beach, following the tracks the Sage had made moments before, while the smaller one continued to explore the ship, now climbing into the cockpit to examine the controls.
 
The Sage waited, watching as the larger fish-man passed into the copse of brush and palm trees. Without knowing anything about these strange creatures, his best option was to wait, they might be dangerous, but they seemed curious and relaxed enough that he didn’t want to simply attack them without provocation. Instead he watched as the smaller fish-man poked around the speedboat, trying levers and buttons without response. The Sage couldn’t really mock the fish-man that much for it, however, as he himself hadn’t known what purpose the buttons served. The smaller fish-man coiled back in surprise when his experiments resulted in two black bars waving across the small window in the front of the boat. The creature certainly didn’t seem malicious or calculating enough to pose too large a threat to his own safety, although it was quite clear that the fish-headed being would be useless in terms of helping his problem with the boat.
 
The Sage almost made to leave his hiding place and approach, when he heard the faintest crunching of leaves from behind him. Turning his head almost imperceptibly to the side, he caught sight of the larger fish-man, stalking what appeared to be a hidden and oblivious person. The Sage waited until the fish-man was only a few feet away, remaining as purposefully unaware as he could. When his would-be ambusher was only a few feet away, the Sage spun, his dueling cane whipping around to catch the side of the coral spear and pin it down into the ground. The fish-man looked up in surprise as the Sage stood up. “Now, we have no need for that kind of behavior.” He said, locking eyes with the deep black pools of the fish-man, “though what happens next depends entirely on whether you can understand what I am saying right now.”
 
To his mild surprise, the fish-man straightened up and spoke in a surprisingly understandable voice, “Very well then, stranger, we shall settle this with words. I am Crota, a Zora of the place your people call Fishman Island.” He began walking out onto the beach, and the Sage followed, feeling confident that he was not in extreme danger with the two Zoras. “Why has one of Rapture ventured so far to the surface?” he asked, and the Sage detected the subtle distaste that Crota could not entirely cover. The Sage pondered what the Zora could have meant. The way he had inflected the word implied that Rapture was referring to something other than the general emotion, but the name was ambiguous enough that it could as easily be a place as a philosophy. Had Carter mentioned something about Rapture during his explanation?
 
The Sage shrugged, “I am afraid I am unfamiliar with the term you speak of. Though I would assure you that I am far more damp than rapt at this particular instance.” Crota may have smiled at this, but it was difficult for the Sage to tell.
 
The smaller Zora noticed their approach and moved to join their conversation. Crota gave the Sage an appraising look, “No. I can see by your garb that you are not one of Rapture. How did you come by this boat?” The Sage maintained the Zora’s gaze, his voice slightly even as he replied.
 
“It was a gift from a friend. Though it seems to have broken.” The Zora’s expression was unreadable, so the Sage moved over to the boat himself, and began to search for a possible cause of the issue. “If you have no further questions I must be off.” He called out to the Zoras.
 
I have more pressing matters than assuaging the curiosity of errant Aquans. He thought somewhat bitterly. Crota gave a short laugh, his voice containing the slightest hint of a burble. “And where will you go, man from the distance? Your boat lies on the shore, beached and broken. You have stranded yourself. Come, sit with my brother and I. Explain your story, and we may be moved to aid you.”
 
With that the two Zoras began moving up the beach, back towards the copse of trees in the island’s center. The Sage stood by the shoreline and the speedboat for a moment considering. It was true what the Zora said, he had no way of fixing the boat himself. He could see nothing wrong with the vessel, but it no longer functioned.
 
In his youth, the Sage had heard only stories of those that lived beneath the waves of his homeland. They were known to be devious, luring men to their death in the deceptive tides. The Sage had always attributed the stories to myth and legend over fact, but here in this place he was to be proven wrong yet again. There was no way of knowing the intention of the two Zoras, but the Sage was unlikely to escape them if he attempted to run. By the time he finished summoning a seaworthy vessel, they would clearly know what he was planning. He turned, and began to follow the two Zoras. He had, in truth, little choice in the matter.

1,939 words according to Wordcounter.net
1,939 total.

[The Humble Sage]

“…And thus I am seeking Cinnibar Island, but you have found me here, with once again an inoperable vessel, and without simple means of my own exit.” The Sage sat cross-legged on one of the less sandy portions of the island. “That is the long and short of my tale, make of it what you will.” He finished, gauging Crota for any sort of reaction. It would be far simpler if your eyes were not so obfuscatingly black! He thought with passing irritation.
The Zora was lounging against a nearby palm tree, finned arms propped up behind his head, listening to the Sage’s story. His clearly far younger brother was nearby, exploring the island with the voracity of youth, and the Sage had to wonder how many times the clearly aquatic being had actually been to the surface.

“That’s a big story for such a little man,” the Zora mused after a while, “I am not saying that I doubt your story, wanderer, simply that it is the tale of a bigger fish than you would seem to be. You are clearly prime then?” he was only half asking the question, but the Sage nodded anyway. “And you seek this Clowney on Cinnibar, why?” This question was far more definite.
The Sage considered for a moment before answering. He had a multitude of reasons that he had prepared for the inevitable questioning he would receive from Clowney himself, and for a moment, the Sage considered using this Zora as practice, since he was going to have to be quite convincing once he reached Cinnibar. He decided against it, however, he had no concept of how connected the different portions of the Vasty deep were. He highly doubted Clowney would be checking his story, but rumors still spread, and keeping his tale as consistent as possible would only benefit him in the long run.

“It’s a largely academic interest, in truth.” The Sage answered, tone and posture carefully molded to deflect attention from the topic, without overtly refusing to answer the Zora. “The man is a scholar of no small renown where he is from, and I have questions that an astronomer of his expertise would be of assistance with.” The Sage attempted to gauge the Zora’s reaction to his half-truths. Just general enough that you can’t get much information, without being obviously fictitious.

He could see the Zora was trying to read him, but evidently didn’t get satisfactory information, as Crota was frowning slightly as he spoke next. “Astronomer? Then you’re seeking the shard of star, I would guess.” He asked with a slight tilt of the head. The Sage did his best to hide his complete lack of recognition, but he could tell that the Zora was aware of his unfamiliarity.

“That is possible.” The Sage answered non-committally, painfully aware that he was losing the offensive in this discussion. The Zora was still lounging against the palm trunk, looking unconcerned throughout the entirety of the conversation.  Yet still managing to put me in a corner despite it all. The Sage mused, regarding the Zora with a new wariness and slightly more respect. “What can you tell me of it?” if you are so certain I am searching for this thing, then I have no reason to deny it. Let us learn what
“Not much, we Zoras have heard only rumors, the place where it struck is far out from our Domain, and the seas farther out hold dangers great enough that we seldom venture there.” The Zora sat up now, with something of a gleam in his obsidian eyes. “How will you reach the Star regardless. It will have sunk beneath the waves, no?”

The Sage pondered this. He had no idea whether Clowney was looking for the star piece, though it seemed more than likely, since the object sounded like something that would drag an arrogant scholar away from his studies. He had no idea what the astronomer would be doing, and at this point he didn’t care; there wasn’t enough information to make intelligent decisions. But it was also clear that the Zora was interested in the outcome of this particular question.
“I do not, though I would hazard the man would use some magic.” He answered with the shrug of a man who does not know. The Zora leaned forward eagerly. I do hope you aren’t going to try and accompany me, fish-man. I have no ill-will towards your kind, but I am not seeking an unwarrantedly bloated travelling company. Numbers draw two things, attention and a lack of supplies. The second I can deal with thanks to our blanched benefactor, but I have little interest in the first." The Sage put on a politely curious face, doing his best to hide his distaste for the coming question.

“Would you like to be able to go down and retrieve it?” The Zora asked with an almost showman-like smile. The Sage was taken aback, and paused for a moment before he responded.

“To be clear, you possess the means for me to traverse the depths without difficulty? Does this include my inability to breath in the stuff?” Crota nodded, and the Sage gave an approving nod, it was an important detail. “Then consider me formally interested, though I would imagine there is a rather significant piece of information you are withholding from me at the moment.” He said, eyeing the entirely too eager Zora as he spoke. The Zora leaned back against the palm tree, though he still had the same eager grin.

“I know just the thing for you then.” Crota said, “See, my brother is one of the best clothiers in Zora’s domain.” He said, pausing as if there was some significance to the statement. The Sage looked at him blankly, and after a moment Crota spoke up further “If you wanted… he could create a tunic for you.” Again the Zora’s tone implied the Sage should be taking something away from the statement, but again the Sage simply returned him a blank stare. Without any sort of reaction, the Zora’s momentum seemed to deflate, and instead of his previous excitement, the sense was more one of forced persistence “…which would allow you to breathe under the water.” He said slowly, spelling it out for the Sage.

“I see. I am understanding now why this is an item you think I would be interested in. What would you be wanting in return?” he asked, bracing himself for a cost that was sure to be disparagingly outrageous given his lack of other options.

The Zora simply shrugged, “That would be my brother’s decision, I simply steer what business I can his way.” The Zora nodded his head towards his brother, who was attempting to climb a palm tree, arm outstretched to pry loose an under ripe coconut. He was clearly about to fall, but his brother seemed unconcerned, The Sage got up and walked over to the smaller Zora.

“Zora!” he called up to the fish-man, who lost his grip on the trunk in surprise and barely managed to keep himself from falling. “I am told you can create a garment that will allow me to survive the water as you can. Is this the truth?” The young Zora looked down at him with wide obsidian eyes. The young Zora nodded silently, and began to descend the tree. “Good, I am interested in purchasing such a garment. What would be the associated cost?” he asked the seeming child as it descended the trunk of the tree with significantly more care than the Sage had seen it display with any of its other actions on the island so far.

The Zora seemed to consider for a moment, sizing the Sage up with a critical eye. “A tale worth the trouble.” He said after he had finished his appraisal.  The Sage raised one eyebrow in slight confusion. The young Zora shrugged. “I am a tradesman. I believe in progress through fair exchanges.” The Sage was surprised by the articulation of what he had taken for quite a young Zora, but said nothing as the fish-boy continued. “I possess the skill to grant you a garment that will help you immensely, but of what point is money to one such as yourself. You could create whatever I wished for with little more than time and thought.” He raised a finger to the side of his nose. “That would sound to me like I was getting the worse end of the deal, No?” The Zora turned to head back over to his brother, “You want something of use, you must give something equally valuable. Since material things have no meaning to your kind, I want something more… ethereal.”

The young Zora picked up a reed basket that the Sage hadn’t noticed him carrying before. It was full of various reeds and other things that while common on the surface would probably be of great demand in an underwater realm. So that’s why you’ve wandered away from your waves… The Sage thought. To a true craftsman, there was no end to the quest for fresh components for their craft. There is no substitute for experience, but at times the wonder of ignorance can be missed…

The Zora pulled out a blue tunic along with a pair of bone needles. “As it happens, this piece is nearly finished. Tell your tale, and I will work while I listen. If your story matches my craft in quality, the tunic is yours, and payment is made.” He sat down against a tree and his brother glanced over at them, still lounging without any apparent cares. The Sage thought for a moment, sifting through the tales he remembered well enough to tell.
Then he began.

1,630 words according to wordcounter.net     
new Total is 3,659 

[The Humble Sage]

“…And the knife waxed red as the Moon waxed dark again.” The Sage finished, his two Zora fellows regarding him from across the small fire they had made. The tale had taken some time, and the sun had dipped beneath the flowing waves a good few hours ago. There was a silence for a time, the older Zora staring into the fire while his brother put the finishing touches on the pledged tunic. The Sage watched them from across the crackling pile of brush and driftwood.
 
“That is not a pleasant story.” Crota said after the silence was over. The Sage shook his head.
 
“Pleasant stories serve only to put us at peace, lull our suspicions, let us rest.” He leaned back, resting on his hands, trying to stretch after sitting in the same position for so long. “We are at peace, I suspect you of little, and there is no time for me to rest. Therefore, I have instead chosen a story for the wary.” He stretched slightly, shaking feeling back into stiffened limbs. “The world is not forgiving, neither should our vision of it be so. We must face the horrors with full knowledge of their existence. Anything less is willful ignorance.” The Zora did not reply, and instead simply watched him in the flickering light. Without further words the Sage turned to regard the younger Zora, whom he realized he still did not know the name of. The tailor held up the garment, surveying it with a critical eye, before threading a last stitch into place.
 
“That story was passable. By which I mean it served to pass the time.” He gave the Sage a wry grin, evidently pleased with his own wit. “Consider it a down-payment on an incomplete masterpiece.” He said, handing the tunic to the Sage, who raised an eyebrow at the last part of the statement. “You are one who is prime, you will certainly be imperiled at some point in the future, and while this tunic will prevent you from drowning, it will do little to turn away a blade. I do not have the tools with me here, but if you were to seek me out at my own workshop I think this piece will serve as a fine base for a suit of Zoran armor.” Crota’s head turned abruptly to look at his brother. He said nothing, but the frown on his face was more than sufficient for the Sage to understand him. “Of course, the one brief yarn you have spun for me thus far would not be a fair trade for such a gift, but I have no doubt you have more stories than that one in your repertoire.” The young Zora said almost smugly.
 
“That is an intriguing proposition.” The Sage said honestly, “And one I may well take you up on in times to come. For now, I do not seek for battle, and thus armor would serve only as a hindrance. This tunic will more than suffice if it does what you claim it can.” He added, a touch of skepticism still remaining. The Zoras had little to gain from deceiving him, but even so he did not trust entirely to their altruism either. There was something to this exchange he was not understanding, and the knowledge of his ignorance gnawed at the back of his mind like a bothersome rash. Crota gave a short, somewhat tightened laugh.
 
“No need to fear that, One from the distance, my brother’s craft is second to none!” he said it jovially enough, but his eyes were not smiling as much as his face. He has gotten unnerved by the conversations this evening. The Sage was mildly disappointed that Crota was unsettled by his tale, though he knew full well why. It seemed he did not like what his brother had said about the armor either however. Again the lack of information irked him, that dislike was significant in some way, he was sure of it. He accepted the proffered tunic and looked it over. It was quite clearly well made, and there was no denying that it even possessed the faint aura of energy one often got in the presence of magical items. It would serve for the time being at the very least.
 
There was an almost embarrassed cough, and the Sage looked up to see the Zora holding out another piece of cloth. It was the same material and color as the tunic, but smaller. The Sage took it, holding the blue-toned stocking cap with a look of confusion and mild disdain. He glanced back at the Zora, who was almost pink with embarrassment. “It… er… It’s needed to… ehm… make the tunic’s magic function.” The Zora swallowed before continuing, “Without the… hat… the magic would not extend to your head as well. Rendering the whole concept moot!” he finished in a rush.
 
“ And I assume that the design of this hat was the most efficient for traversing the waves?” the Sage asked sarcastically. The young Zora’s embarrassment was quite evident now, and he fumbled for some sort of reply.
“It’s to evoke the Spirit of our people, prime.” Crota crossed his arms and fixed the Sage with what could be construed as a challenging look. “So you do not forget the ones this power was granted you by.”  He was pointedly staring at the Sage now, who returned his steely gaze without concern. He would not be cowed by everyone he ran across, and he did not find his chances unfavorable if this conversation spiraled into physical conflict.
 
Still the situation had notably soured, and it seemed unlikely to improve. It would be time for the Sage to move on shortly. He still was a few days out from Cinnibar itself, and he doubted his own speed could match that of the boat he had been using, despite this new garment he had been given. He stood, thanking the two Zoras for their time and hospitality. “Perhaps I will seek you out in the future, if my travels take a more military turn.” He said to the younger Zora, and with that he bid the two of them farewell and moved off a short distance to change.
The Tunic fit him surprisingly well, and he packed the rest of his belongings into the satchel on the tunic. He couldn’t deny the quality of the outfit, and he took a moment to admire the threading. Though he would deny it, he was slightly excited to put the new outfit to work. If it could do as promised, then a new world of possibilities was opening before him. He crossed the short stretch of beach, and waded into the shallows. It was time he reached Cinnibar Island.

For those interested in the story told by the Sage, (Drawings of the moon) part one is currently found here, the remainder will be put up hopefully pretty soon!

1,131 words according to wordcounter.net
4,790 words total.

[The Humble Sage]

The Ocean teamed with life, and the Sage passed through with quiet and rapt observance. There were stories of what lay beneath the waves, but in truth, they fell far short of the true magnificence of the world which lay beneath the waves. There were so many different plants and fish that simply were not visible from a boat. The Sage couldn’t help but wonder whether the oceans of his home were equally populated, not that it mattered anymore he supposed.
 
As he half-swam half-walked along the lower parts of the Ocean floor he wondered idly about his home. Would there be a way to get back there? It was only logical, he assumed, If Omni had summoned him here, then clearly he should be able to send him back. The grinning demagogue had made things relatively clear when it came to the scope of his powers, the trick would be getting the godling to do it. But in truth, the Sage wasn’t even sure he truly wanted to be sent back. This world was stranger than anything the Sage could have fathomed was possible, but the sheer volume of discoveries that afforded him was too tempting a prize to pass up.
 
 By all accounts the worlds had only occupied for approximately a decade. While the Sage doubted the truth of these stories, there was far too much architecture for civilization to only have arrived so recently, the possibilities this opened before him were quite tantalizing. If this was true, then he possessed the chance to record THE History of the Omniverse. All of it. The thought that every single fact was here, somewhere. Nothing shrouded in legend, nothing obscured and confused by the passages of time. The answers would be there somewhere; it would just depend on if he knew where to look. The hunt awaited him.
 
For the time being however, he needed to focus on his current objective. He needed to make friends if he was going to gain access to the resources he would need to make the discoveries, and by all accounts the Kingdom was a powerful force to be reckoned with. He didn’t know exactly where in the scheme of things this Clowney sat, but he didn’t see any reason not to look into the matter, particularly if the artifact was as interesting as the letter seemed to say it was. If his information was correct, he had nearly reached Cinnibar Island. He began to swim upwards towards the surface above. The Zora tunic not only allowed him to breathe underwater, but he found it also seemed to normalize the pressures one often experience while deep below the surface of the water. He knew of many a more experienced driver from his homeland who would have greatly desired this garment, and he couldn’t deny that the Zoran craftsmanship was impressive.
 
He broke the surface in the fading light of evening. He had traveled most of the day, and the one before. He hadn’t been able to see below the surface during the night, so he had found a deserted island to briefly rest on. He felt a growing sense of urgency as the journey wore on. The letter he had intercepted seemed relatively new, but that was now a week ago. How long would Clowney remain on the island awaiting reinforcements? There was no way for the Sage to know, he could simply make the best time available with his current resources and hope that he was expedient enough.
 
In the fading light, he could see the collection of ships, anchors down, sails stored away: The Imperial Blockade. They floated there, masts stretching tall against the failing orange beams of light. For all the claims made about Imperial ruthlessness, the impression he got from the craft was not callousness, but of loneliness. The remote vessels waited; silent, resigned yet still resolute. There was something to admire in their devotion to their orders. But the Sage could not fully separate the lonesome rectitude of those distant ships from the frank brutality and unrelenting scrutiny that he had experienced from his brief interactions with Imperial forces. No, these were not people he wished to become overly acquainted with.
 
With a slight sigh, the Sage dove back beneath the water, letting himself sink back beneath the obscuring waves. He had hoped to make it under the blockade while it was still daylight. He had no idea what measures they might have in place for those who tried to travel beneath the waves. He doubted the concept had escaped their ken, but he supposed that it was possible. He himself had not thought of the concept before the Zora suggested it, but now that the topic had been suggested it seemed well within the realm of magic to overcome. The real question would be whether the Imperial blockade had been equally enlightened.
 
Light was actually going to be a problem, now that he stopped to think about it. Passing under the boats during the cover of darkness would be preferable to avoid detection, but brought its own set of challenges. The Lexistone gave off a soft light, enough that he wouldn’t be swimming blind, but he didn’t like the idea of having an easily visible light for anyone who happened to look over the side of the boats. He briefly considered waiting until daylight returned, but there were no suitable islands nearby to pass the time, and he did not relish the concept of remaining below water for the entirety of the night. There was no telling what prowled these waters, and he preferred to keep moving.
 
After some contemplation, he decided that the need for caution was outweighed by his sense of urgency. The Sage pulled out his Lexistone, taking a moment to admire its warm orange glow before making his way towards the blockade. He had judged their distance to be a little under half a mile from where he had broken to the surface, and he tried his best to keep track of the boats from his underwater vantage despite the rapidly disappearing light. In the span of half an hour, the Sun was gone, and the Sage was nearing the foremost of the Blockade’s ships.
 
He had been forced to move slowly so as to avoid detection. Now that he was actually beneath the boats, the game entered his next phase. Before he was just a strange light bobbing below the waves. Only the most bored of seamen would do anything more than fire a half-hearted cannon at such a thing. Now he was something infiltrating the blockade; something that would assuredly have to be dealt with if brought to their attention.
He passed under the first dark spot, which he assumed was the first ship. So far there was no sign that his presence had been noted. The Sage held aloft the Lexistone. Something caught the light for a moment before darting away, the shimmer of bright scales catching even the weak light of the stone. Whatever it was, the creature knew the Sage’s location. Or perhaps it just knew the location of the light. With a swift motion. The Sage dove, straight down until he reached the ocean floor some 10 meters below where he had been swimming. He thought he caught sight of a compact shape descending as well, but he couldn’t be sure that was actually something real.

The seafloor here was rocky and uneven, likely torn by some underwater volcano. The Sage smiled slightly this would serve his purposes just fine. Moving quickly, the Sage set the Lexistone on a nearby outcropping, then moved out of the light as quickly as he could. Taking shelter in one of the splits in the rock, he watched, eyes peeled for his pursuer. He didn’t have long to wait. With a strangely audible sound for the amount of water, a large orange fish barreled directly into the Lexistone, impacting with the rock outcropping solidly. “Human! Death to the Human, ‘Karp!!!”

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[The Humble Sage]

The Sage watched the strange fish creature, as it circled his Lexistone with a motion that was somehow both aggressive and sluggish. Its large golden fins churned the water forcefully as it scoured the nearby area. “Where are you, Human! I will find you, ‘Karp!” it bellowed as it swam more or less in a circle. The Sage briefly considered simply leaving the stone behind, this strange talking fish would probably be distracted by the light enough for him to slip away unhindered and unnoticed. But that would mean having to abandon his light, traversing the ocean in complete darkness until dawn, a prospect he did not relish.
 
The Sage took the time to summon his dueling cane, as the situation seemed unlikely to be resolved by words, then moved out of his hiding place. The fish gave a surprised “Karp!” when it finally noticed the Sage’s approach, and immediately swam at the prime full speed. The Sage had suspected as much and moved to the side as the orange-scaled torpedo shot past. The Sage couldn’t help but notice the power behind the motion, as he felt the displaced water nudge him slightly; this would be something not to get hit by.
 
“What is this all about?” he called, his voice muffled by the waves. He was between the fish and his stone now, and continued to back towards the gem as his assailant circled back around. His foe’s orange scales glittered as they caught the light, the golden fins and beard-like growths a swirl of constant motion as the fish re-aligned itself.
 
“For the Freedom! We will fight you, Human!” it hollered, then charged again as if that served to explain anything that could have been unclear. One would think that gaining speech would allow for more civilized means of disagreement. The Sage thought as the gleaming missile shot towards him again. In truth, it seems simply to provide more reasons for them. Again the Sage moved out of the way, and this time the fish impacted solidly with a nearby stone. Pieces of rock fell to the ground as the fish re-oriented itself slowly. “Stop running, Human! You will be the one to faint now, ‘Karp!”
 
The Sage barely had time to ponder the strange wording of that last taunt. That sounded like it was supposed to be significant in some way… The Sage thought as he made a bolt for the Lexistone. The scholar was doing his best to swim swiftly underwater without having any real training in the proper method of doing so. Even the Zora tunic could only do so much, and as the Sage snatched the Lexistone in passing, he knew he hadn’t moved nearly fast enough.
 
There was a cry from behind him, and the Sage was sent tumbling through the depths as a wave of rock-solid water ripped through the surrounding ocean before slammed into him from behind. He re-oriented himself to see the fish swimming at him full-force yet again. “We will be free of you! We will be our own masters!” Sage brought his dueling cane up as quickly as he could, feeling agonizingly sluggish from the force of the water he had to displace with the motion. With a semi-quick motion, he connected the dueling cane solidly with the side of the fish, deflecting its momentum just enough for the Sage to dodge out of the way.
 
From his studies back before his journey to the Omniverse, the Sage knew the function of a fish’s gills. Although they didn’t seem apparent on this strangely resilient specimen, he hoped that the spot would still be slightly more susceptible to his attack. Indeed, the fish seemed slightly off balance, re-correcting far slower this time than last. The strange sea-creature seemed to be trying to clear its head.
 
It wasn’t going to leave him alone yet, that much was certain. The Sage pulled out a set of bolas as the fish began to build up the speed for another charging tackle. He would have to time this perfectly to have any hope of success. The bolas wouldn’t be able to build up the requisite momentum down here for him to fling them, but if he dodged as the fish charged in, and then… with as quick a motion as the water would allow, the Sage jerked to one side, simultaneously whipping the bolas in a downward arc across the fish’s path. He held on to one of the strings, hoping the other two would connect.
 
He was in luck, as he felt the looping weights of the bola wrap their way around the tail fin of the fish, he yanked downwards, pulling the creature to the ground. I thudded to the rocky floor with a surprised exclamation of “Karp!” then immediately began to struggle. “No! Magikarp’s agility fell sharply! I will not be captured, ‘Karp!” The Sage knew that the weights of the bola would only keep it trapped for so long, it was best for him to put as much distance between them as possible while his foe was entangled. “just you wait, Human! The great Wartortle will come for me!” The magikarp shouted as it struggled with the weight that was thoroughly ensnaring its tail.
 
Without waiting any longer, the Sage swam away from the fish, its indignation fading as he left. His earlier caution about the Imperial blockade seemed small in comparison. The fish was clumsy, boisterous and predictable, but its raw power was something the Sage was not keen to stick around. He wondered about the Wartortle figure the fish had mentioned, a figure the Magikarp seemed to hold in quite high regard. I am playing with fire while blindfolded. The Sage thought in irritation, it’s only a matter of time before I get burned…
 
He swam on, passing the rest of the blockade without notable incident, nor did the fish catch him again. Up ahead through the pre-dawn light, he could see the ocean floor sloping upwards, as rocky shelves turned to smoother sand. With renewed vigor, the Sage crossed the last few miles at a strong pace, touching down in the shallow water of the island’s shore. He took a moment to compose himself. From what Carter had told him, Cinnibar Island could be a strange sight for newcomers, and would take some getting used to. Still, the Sage had finally made it to his destination; surely it would all be downhill from here.  

1,077 words according MS word.
7,205 words total.

[The Humble Sage]

No matter how much he studied the forgotten lore, and no matter how well versed he was in the flora and fauna of legends. Nothing would have prepared him for the strangeness that assaulted him from every direction as he trudged, tunic sopping wet from the ocean, up the beach towards the island. The buildings were the same bizarre collection of familiar and foreign architecture as he had experienced in Coasta del Sol, but the inhabitants of the city were some of the most disparate and non-uniform beings he had ever seen. As he approached the edge of the city, he felt strangely out of place.  the only thing in sight that resembled a human at more than a passing glance. The looks he received as he walked the streets did little to assuage his concerns.

Normal is an entirely invented perception, he decided as he watched a collection of three-foot-tall fanged mushrooms shamble past grumpily, our concept of the standard existence is derived solely from the average of the pool in which we reside. Open the floodgates, and the center will shift. It must, and it should, for the sum is no longer the same. He paused as a small two-headed bird was ushered away from him quickly by a larger one with three heads. The long-legged avian kept one head trained on the Sage as it led what he could only assume was its offspring away. The gaze was not particularly aggressive, just distrustful.  Yet when even a single drop of one pool is placed into another, the ripples will disrupt the entirety of the surface, rocking its surroundings to the very edges of the basin.
 
The thought struck him that this Clowney he was searching for might not in fact be the irritable, aging old man that the Sage had originally assumed him to be. He had chosen to make his base of operations in this place, and by the sounds of the letter had remained there for some time. Clearly he (if the writer of the letter was even male) had a flair for the eccentric. It was entirely possible, the Sage realized with some discomfort, that the person he was seeking to assist would think in ways entirely alien to himself.
 
After some consideration, he decided that he would need assistance finding Clowney, the island was deceptively small from a distance, and the buildings sprawled against each other in a variety of unconventional ways. This was a city that had not been planned, at least not by minds that worked in a way he was familiar with. For a moment, The Sage was stuck, unsure of how he should proceed. Then he realized that he was being stupidly close-minded. In any other city, he would simply have asked someone for Clowney’s whereabouts, as he would have no way of knowing the man if they met. The strangeness of Cinnibar’s inhabitants should not be changing his approach.
 
 Looking around the Sage noticed a nearby street vendor, but the floating white ball stopped its almost leering cackle as it became aware the Sage’s glance. Bright red spread across the creature’s face as he approached, and it turned away, small arms reaching up to hide its face from him. The floating thing ignored the Sage’s attempts to gain its attention, even when he offered to purchase one of the paintings the spherical creature had been trying to sell a moment before. No amount of coxing seemed to budge the creature, and the Sage wondered slightly how it managed to stay in business. The ghost-like sphere continued to ignore him, but others that walk the streets were becoming increasingly aware of his presence.
 
Growing uneasy with the attention his actions were drawing, the Sage moved on down the street, turning a corner before trying another stall. This vendor was a strange stooped figure,  somehow reminding the Sage of both a frog and a porcupine. The thing was selling what looked like seaweed, though from the commotion the vendor was making it seemed like it must be something more impressive. The frog-thing noticed his approach and waved him over with an encouraging gurgle.
 
  “Well, well!” the merchant burbled as the Sage drew nearer, “It’s been quite some time since I saw a human here on Cinnibar! Is there anything I can do for you, a nice wreath perhaps?” The frog said, raising a glistening circlet of drooping vegetation. The Sage could barely understand half of the frog’s words through the strong gurgling accent, but given the reception he had received everywhere else on the island, he decided to make do.
 
“Perhaps, though I have no door on which to hang it.” The Sage replied, as he neared the strange merchant. “I am most certainly in the market, as it were, for information, however.” It said, fixing the spiked frog with what he hoped would translate as a significant glance. The merchant gave a long extended gurgle which the Sage took for a laugh.
 
“I figured you’d try and steer things that direction sooner or later. Sooner in your case, it seems. Are you sure you’ve no interest in this fine clamshell carving?” The frog-person eyed its customer with a bulbous orb as it held aloft a clamshell, finely depicting a great sea-whale of some type the Sage was unfamiliar with. The Sage made a face, and the frog put the carving back down nodding to itself “No, no, I can see you are quite determined to have your questions answered. I have just the thing for that, you know. Nobody says no to THIS.” The frog gave a wet grunt and lifted a large crate onto the counter beside its seaweed. Several tentacled shellfish sat in ice, a putrid smell wafting out towards the Sage. “I was planning to save these to take home to my family, but the little ones can share if you are interested in partaking.” The frog looked at the Sage expectantly, as if it was sure this bid had won some business. The Sage just sighed.
 
“You should have stopped with the carving. I’m half-sure you can’t even eat those things. Just answer me some questions and I will be glad to lighten your table’s load.” The quill-laden frog gave a slight chuckle and moved the crate of ice back down below the counter. “The… inhabitants… of this fine city seem to be rather skittish around me. Have you any idea of the reason for that? I’ve done nothing to incur their ill will to my knowledge.”
 
The quilled frog gave a knowing gurgle, “Its nothing personal, left over distrust from home. don’t let it put you off.” The merchant made as if to move on, but the Sage pressed it further.
 
“You are referring to something that you take for common knowledge. I fear that in this world, the term common is often a poor one.” The Sage straightened up as he spoke, and the frog eyed him carefully, “I would appreciate it greatly if you could enlighten me on the matter.”
 
The street vendor sighed, and turned back to the Sage, a look he assumed was solemn spread on its slime-coated face. “We here in the Omniverse are a scattering of many, many worlds, you know that much right?” the Sage nodded, it was a fascinating concept, but one he would have to reserve for later introspection. “The majority of this island is populated by beings from a single reality. In that plane of existence, people in many ways resembling yourself routinely hunt and kidnap these various beings, exploiting their power in fights.” The frog sighed heavily, “Winning prestige and riches off of the blood, sweat and tears of the poor creatures.” It looked at the Sage and gave a low gurgle, “This is a bastion of safety for them, there are no humans, no hunters. Then a traveler like you arrives. They know that not every human does the same, but to them every human is a potential trainer. You can hardly blame them for giving you a wide berth. I do the same whenever I hear an orc is stopping by, though half of the things have never heard of a murloc in their life.”
 
The Sage nodded, he had assumed the issue was something similar, though he hadn’t really expected it to be quite that evocative of a black-market dog-fighting ring. It would be best to see to his business here as quickly as possible then, before things ended badly. The murloc had turned to another customer, a jabbering  figure in brown robes whose bright yellow eyes gleamed in the dark recesses of his hood. The murloc handed over a clamshell in exchange for something metallic that the Sage did not recognize.
 
The Sage called the murloc back over, leaning an elbow on the counter and bringing his face level with the stooped amphibian. “I am seeking a wizard, known to his fellows as Jadevon Clowney. He is said to have set up a residence on the island.” The Sage picked up one of the seaweed wreaths, its length slippery and thin in his fingers. “Do you know where I could find him?”

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[Undyne]

This is a direct continuation of events from this here thread.

Sabrina's helmet obscured her vision to the sides, which proved to be a greater annoyance than what she had anticipated. About half a dozen Growlithes were pursuing her and their trained bodies could keep up with her bike. They barked orders, telling her to pull over, threatening to open fire if she did not oblige and resisted capture. They were however content with simply running closely behind her although they could have caught up if they'd accelerated. Why could that be?

The answer to that question presented itself when she screeched around a corner in the shape of an Onix and a Steelix, both with blue pieces of tissue on their stony bodies, who laid across the road to form an impenetrable roadblock. A roadblock that Sabrina was driving towards at full speed. Her mind raced as her foot hesitantly lifted itself up from the gas pedal but didn't hit the brake quite yet. How could she...? There were no accessible side roads, not at the breakneck speed she was going, but if she started braking now, she could... no. NO. She gritted her teeth as she realized what thought had creeped into her head. Giving up? Never! Not in a lifetime! Her foot mashed the gas pedal all the way through again and accelerated her to top speeds, rushing straight at Onix and Steelix who were looking at her rather surprised. The Growlithes began to stop their chase, not wanting to crash into that wall of steel themselves and believing the chase to be over regardless. Of course, they were wrong. As Sabrina got close, she focused, surrounded her body in psychic power and used it on the Magnet Bike. It was a simple feat to lift it up and off the ground in such a way as to preserve its momentum, as if it had hit an invisible ramp and gone flying. The Growlithes and the two snake Pokemon observed in awe as Sabrina flew right over the barricade and over a dozen meters beyond that before landing and speeding on with unbroken energy. The Magnet Bike's strength was, after all, its hover capability. While it didn't work to propel her higher off the ground than a normal bike it was able to cushion the fall when she landed rather than crashing. As a result she could drive on.

Onix was the first one to regain their composure and lifted the roadblock before yelling at the Growlithes to continue their pursuit. Even though Sabrina had gained an amount of distance on them the way to the docks was still long, and other officers were in hot pursuit or waiting further down the line. Steelix whipped his Communicator out as he began rolling after the others, slightly slower than Growlithe but making up for it with his imposing size. "This is Officer Steelix speaking to all forces on Cinnibar: the suspect has dodged our roadblock, Steelix! It appears that she has psychic powers. Be careful, Steelix, to capture her alive. But don't hesitate to use force." The message was recieved all over the island by every member of the police force. Everyone knew.

Sabrina on the other hand came to a grinding halt and drove into an abandoned side road as soon as she had shaken her pursuers off. She needed to catch a brief breather... having lifted the bike had tired her more than she'd imagined, her legs were shaking a little but she soon recovered enough. She couldn't stay forever... right. The ship. The diplomat. She needed to get there and-

Pain. Excruciating pain.

A dagger, both white-hot and headache-splittingly cold carved its way into her skull and made her stumble backwards. Control of her body was lost, she mindlessly flailed her arms about, trying to shut out the indescribable pain. She reached out but there was nothing to grasp. There was no dagger, no blade. Only pain. More pain than she could have believed to exist.

As quickly as it had come it disappeared again. Sabrina fell forward on her knees, then slumped against the pavement, unable to control her twitching body. She was hyperventilating but she could not calm herself, she could not quiet her racing heart, the pulses of adrenaline that pumped through her blood, showering her with a feeling of coolness, the tears coming from her eyes. Just thinking back to the excruciating moments she had just experienced made her whimper like a kicked dog.

It had been a mental attack. There was no other explanation. A being with a mind inconcievably more powerful than her own had used telepathy to dig its way into her... to disarm her? To stop her and leave her to the custody of the Growlithe forces? No... it had wanted information. It had gotten information. It had wrested information from the depths of her mind. Brief moments of the events flashed before her eyes as she remembered what had been taken. Now she remembered... the pain had been too strong for her to be conscious about it, but whoever had attacked her had made her relive those memories as they had taken them.

Sabrina sat on the stairs in her Gym, toying with a spoon that she'd bent with ESP. A shadowy figure appeared in the doorframe. She looked up.

Sabrina shook Lord Giovanni's hand. She had been appointed for the spot of Team Rocket admin. She would not disappoint him.

Sabrina stood before a massive glass tank, containing a young, weirdly humanoid Pokemon in nutritive solution. This was the top-secret project codenamed "Replication." The project to use the genetic information of Mew to create the strongest Pokemon in existence, Mewtwo. A psychic Pokemon with powers greater than anything that existed before. Led by Mr. Fuji... under her supervision. The side-projects Ambertwo, Bulbasaurtwo, Charmandertwo and Squirtletwo had failed recently, but she knew that Mewtwo would not disappoint.

Giovanni would not be disappointed. He would be proud.

...

Sabrina forced herself to her feet and inhalted air through her teeth when she noticed that her left wrist ached. She hadn't broken it luckily, but... it must've hit the wall during her flailing and have gotten badly twisted or something. Her breath still went irregular, her heartbeat was still fast, her hands twitched, but reliving those memories had forced her mind to distance itself from the pain, if only for a while. It had returned to her the control of her body. How much time had passed since... since the attack? The sirens were still blaring and she could hear the barks of Growlithes running down the alleys, searching for her. It couldn't have been long. They hadn't found her trail.

She was angry at herself. How could she have lost control so easily? How had she reacted like this? And who could have assaulted her with such power, such... such inconcievable power? Not even Alakazam had the mental powers to do that to her! Nobody else came to mind, either. Nobody except for...

Mewtwo.

A presence casted itself over the entire island and spoke with a powerful, imposing voice. Sabrina felt it. It was the same presence that had invaded her mind moments ago. It was now adressing the entire island. "Residents of Cinnibar Island. This is Mewtwo. We have a human in our midst who is an undercover member of Team Rocket. Eliminate them at all costs."

While he spoke Sabrina climbed into the seat of her Magnet Bike and kicked the gas pedal through, blasting out of the side alley and back down the main road. An Arcanine caught sight of her and was about to warn the Growlithes of her presence, but it was a moment too slow. Sabrina's Shadow Ball hit it square in the face, knocking it several steps backwards, and before it could recover she followed up with a Dark Ball. Stunned, the Pokemon could not dodge before the capsule caught it and sealed, and Sabrina recalled it to her hand with Telekinesis. Stealth time was over, now she needed to get to the docks or she would... she did not dare imagine what Mewtwo would do to her if he got his hands on her. The pretaste that he had just given her was more than enough.

With a defiant shout she threw out random Dark Balls and immediately released whoever they caught. Unfinished Crypto-Pokemon with half-sealed hearts were berserk beasts caught between good and evil and unable to make out friend or foe, meaning that they mindlessly attacked everything in their path until they passed out. It was no permanent damage, in fact after passing out a Pokemon would rapidly recover, but it created a perfect diversion. Most Dark Balls didn't land on anyone meaningful but she was able to "berserk" a few Growlithes, stopping their entire squad for moments, until their opponents smartened up to it and began to give chase while two squadmates remained behind to "pacify" their rampaging friend. Sabrina also hit a Haunter that seemingly was ignoring the sirens and was begging under a shady overhang, but hesitated when it came to sending it back out. No, she could use a Haunter... that Dark Ball was tucked under her skirt along with Arcanine and Slowking. She would need the maximum possible capabilities when Mewtwo struck. She had no doubt that the psychic Pokemon was already on its way from the Council halls. It was just a matter of time before it got to her... she could only hope that it came too late.

[The Humble Sage]

The Sage travelled along the streets of Cinnabar with a quickened stride. The assortment of strange creatures that passed the streets around him continued to watch the newcomer warily. The Sage moved through the streets, the limp circlet of seaweed dangling from one hand forgotten. He had paid the murloc double the original price, but the merchant had proved an extremely helpful source in an otherwise unfriendly world. He idly wondered why he was still holding the slippery wreath, but before he decided to simply dispose of it somewhere, an immeasurably powerful presence touched his mind.
 
The Sage halted in his tracks, one hand held to his forehead, trying to ease the throbbing. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his head. His vision blurred and he felt he was falling sideways. With a start, he placed a hand against the wall of a nearby building. As suddenly as the presence had assaulted him, it stopped. He felt the most distinctive impression that he had just been dismissed. Slowly he was able to regain some semblance of his lost composure. The presence was no longer acute, but he could still feel it. That probably didn’t do anything to help the inhabitants of this city view me very favorably… he thought, but as he looked he saw that despite his near breakdown, the pedestrians around him seemed less than interested in his action. Around him, the entire population seemed to be listening to something. It was a message he did not share, and the Sage was unnerved by how the entire town seemed almost to ‘pause’ as they listened to whatever it was.
 
The Sage blinked, and the citizens of Cinnabar resumed their motions. Almost immediately, a shout went up from a short distance away. The Sage turned to see a short lizard-like creature with a skull-shaped helmet gesture at him with a bone. “The Team Rocket Trainer! There he is!” heads turned and faces darkened as the Sage watched. In a moment the situation had turned from a bewildering city to an outright hostile one. He had no idea what had turned the entire street against him, but he figured it had something to do with the message they had received; perhaps that was why he had been excluded?
 
 As various members of the surrounding crowd began to warily but determinedly advance, the Sage looked for escape options. The looks he was getting were clear enough that he knew there wouldn’t be any chance of parlay with this multitude. Spotting a narrow Alley way not too far the Sage broke into a sprint. Several of the mob’s members shouted and the chase was on. He was closer to the alley than it had looked at first, the strange angles of the building had confused him, making the building appear far large than it actually was. A squat figure moved to intercept him, a two-foot-tall blue being with a large black and white swirl dominating its appearance. It scowled at him, bringing its hands up in a boxing stance that the Sage found odd for its stature and build.
 
He had little time to wonder at the oddity of the creature’s fighting style however, as he was only a short distance away from the main crowd of his pursuers. There were occasional shouts from the group, calling him a monster or a coward, but the majority of his pursuers were stone-cold silent. As he reached the blue creature it puffed out its chest, the strange design beginning to spin slightly and take on a strange color. The Sage could feel it tugging at the edges of his mind, beckoning him to look closer, to see how the shape could move so.
 
He wanted to stop. But he knew that he couldn’t. Stop moving for a moment, and he would be at the mercy of the mob.
 
Shaking himself out of the hypnosis, he charged the surprised Pokémon. It threw up its small arms in an ineffectual attempt at to protect itself. However, instead of attacking, the Sage leapt, placing a hand on the head of the startled Pokémon and vaulting clean over into the alleyway behind. He raced off down the alley, several of the faster Pokémon not far behind. To his left what he could only describe as a volley of leaves thudded far too solidly into the wall where his head had been only a moment before. He ran with as much speed as he could muster, the angry mob funneling slowly into the alley. Others would be circling around, he imagined, but he didn’t have time to worry about that. 
 
Up ahead he noticed the back door to one of the buildings, and a large collection of crates stacked somewhat haphazardly beside it reaching almost to the roof of the small shop. He briefly considered the door, but the prospect of an indoor chase seemed not in his favor. With another surprisingly powerful leap, he began to make his way up the crates as quickly as possible. His mind drifted back to his time with the wood elves of his homeland. It was strangely relieving to be moving with the agility and thrill of the treetops again. He had spent too long consumed with his research and studies, the old motions were coming back to him now. For a moment, his dire situation seemed almost trivial. He had raced the elves through the branches, and he had been trained by one of their finest. Nothing could catch a dancing leaf, save for the wind.
 
Harsh reality reasserted its dominance as the ground shook with the impact of something heavy. The crates shook under his feet, and he looked down to see what he could only describe as a boulder with arms. The strangeness of the creature almost caused the Sage to misplace his footing. It stared up at him with rage-filled eyes. Before slamming the ground again. The crates under the Sage’s feet rocked alarmingly, and the Sage slowed down, arms pin wheeling in an attempt to maintain balance.
 
 A few of his pursuers had taken to the air, and the Sage swatted at a strange metal ball with his dueling cane. He risked a glance at his destination. He wasn’t far from the roof. It was probably only about four feet above his head. The metal ball continued to pester him. It lacked the size to be truly threatening, so the Sage was only half dealing with it. His attention was drawn to the creature however, when he heard the first sounds of arcing electricity. The creature seemed to be building up current, in a way the Sage found both impossible, and at the same time incredibly intriguing.

His curiosity would have to wait however, as the creature seemed poised to attack. On a moment’s thought, the Sage whipped at the creature with the seaweed wreath, the slime-covered loop catching one of the strange U-shaped protrusions that extended from the sides of its head. Before the metal ball could react he swung across and downwards, slamming the thing heavily into the side of the building. It spiraled away disoriented, the length of seaweed still dangling loosely from its side. The ground shook again, and the Sage found himself almost pitching over the edge. At this rate he was unsure if he could get to the top of the building before the entire collection of crates was sent hurtling towards the surface below. He eyed the remaining distance carefully as he attempted to regain his balance. Surely he could make the jump, right?

The choice was taken out of his hands as the ground shook yet again, and the Sage could feel his perch slipping sideways as the whole collection of crates began to spill into the alley below. With desperation, the Sage leapt, one arm outstretched to grip the edge of the rooftop. His fingers contacted hard concrete, and for a moment, he hung there, suspended from the edge of the building while the wooden crates rained down on the alley below. Then his fingers lost their purchase, and he fell backwards into the mass of crashing wood and enraged creatures.

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10,103 words total

[Undyne]

When the first explosion tore up the street in front of her Sabrina knew that Mewtwo had arrived. She took a sharp turn right, driving around the crater, and watched in shock as a Shadow Ball whizzed past her where seconds ago her head had been, creating another explosion a few meters further. If one of these blasts hit her, she was dead meat. With her next turn left she was able to put the smoke of the smouldering crater between herself and her pursuer, which would buy her a few seconds, hopefully.

The next strip of street was straight, allowing her to turn her head without risking to crash into something. Mewtwo was there, floating in midair. He was wearing a fluttering robe, a sickness-inducing caricature of a human. Did he - no, it - truly believe itself to be on the same level as its creators? It was smart only because it had been designed to be so, it had apparently been TOO smart though... smart enough that it had begun to think of itself as more than what it was. Fueled by the rage she materialized a Shadow Ball in her right hand and threw it at Mewtwo, who carelessly deflected it with a swing of its hand. As she had suspected, she was no match for him in terms of power just yet. But at the same time Mewtwo needed to use part of its psychic power to fly fast enough to keep up with her vehicle and create new Shadow Balls of its own to throw at her, meaning that it could not make use of its more powerful abilities, like Psychokinesis and the Mind attack it had incapacitated her with previously. And it needed to show trigger discipline with its Shadow Balls - Sabrina was still driving through streets with Cinnibarians on them who hadn't got the update on needing to go home, or worse - they were thinking that they could be of aid rather than a hindrance to the police forces. And finally, the more compliant Cinnibarians had withdrawn into their homes which were left and right along the street. If Mewtwo missed his Shadow Ball it was just as likely to hit a building and kill innocent civilians. Yes, even though they had made it to be an emotionless tool it had developed feelings, and they held it back now. She knew everything about it.

The smirk was wiped off her face when a Snorlax ambushed her out of a side street and bodyslammed itself into her. Though she was able to avoid taking the attack full-on the force of it sent her flying off to the left, losing control of her bike. Meanwhile Mewtwo's misaimed Shadow Ball hit Snorlax, who barely noticed the attack thanks to its immunity to Ghost-type attacks. Sabrina cursed and kept herself from crashing with another sharp turn. Her right leg hurt a lot after having been squished between Snorlax's belly and her bike. She was lucky that it hadn't gotten paralyzed from that attack... on the plus side, after its heavy strike the Snorlax was flat on its belly and would need a while to recover, so that was one less issue to worry about. The thought of throwing a Dark Ball at it crossed her mind, but... no, that would consume too much time.

But while she was on the subject... Sabrina briefly looked back at Mewtwo over her shoulder. The Psychic Pokemon was just charging up two new Shadow Balls. She could... yes. One hand behind her back just like so and was about to summon a Dusk Ball when an idea came to her mind and, smirking again, she summoned a Clone Ball instead. Might as well add insult to injury while she was at it... then Mewtwo threw the Shadow Balls and Sabrina's plan came into motion. She dodged one by drifting to the side with her bike, and caught the other one in midair with her Telekinesis, just as it came close to hitting her. In a broad swing she brought it around her back, making a 180° turn and aiming right back at its creator. Mewtwo had not expected such an attack but the Psychic Pokemon rapidly recovered from the surprise and batted the Shadow Ball aside with its hand. Just as Sabrina had counted on.

Mewtwo's eyes widened as the Shadow Ball dispersed and revealed the Clone Ball that Sabrina had hidden inside it during the brief timeframe when she had brought the Shadow Ball around her back and sent it flying at Mewtwo again. Touching it triggered its mechanisms and before Mewtwo could make any effort to escape the Clone Ball turned it into a ball of light to be sealed within the ball.

Sabrina immediately hit the gas again without taking the time to see the ball dropping to the ground. Or to watch Mewtwo break free. No doubt would the Psychic Pokemon be... annoyed. Infuriated, probably. But a Dark Ball wouldn't be able to catch it in such a state, and engaging it in combat was begging for defeat. Not even the two Pokemon she had caught would buy her much time. No, she needed to escape.

She rounded a corner and a straight line to the port came into view. The diplomat's ship was there... and a man dressed in fine red clothing was descending, surrounded by half a dozen armed men in those white suits, as well as two giants in heavy suits of armor - as Sabrina would soon find out, they were Space Marines. No doubt were they his elite bodyguard. If she could get there before...

That was when Mewtwo broke out. The Clone Ball didn't just break open, it exploded into a massive fireball and sent debris flying as the enraged Pokemon freed itself. Now it wasn't going to hold back any longer... it raised both hands above its head and began materializing a Shadow Ball that was much larger than its previous ones, a true sphere of destruction that wouldn't leave as much as smouldering remains of Sabrina if it hit. She gulped and hit the gas, but it was no use. Mewtwo's eyes glowed bright as it exerted its Telekinesis, holding Sabrina in place so she had nowhere to run. The ball grew larger and larger and Mewtwo flexed its pitifully small arm muscles to throw it. The only flaw in its plan was that its Telekinesis could only hold Sabrina in place, not restrain her movements or powers. And that was what she could use to her advantage.

With a scream of effort Sabrina focused her powers onto the bike beneath her and threw it straight at the Psychic Pokemon. Mewtwo was forced to release her from its Telekinesis to block the attack, allowing her to land safely. Mewtwo dropped the bike and tried to reach for her again but this time Sabrina was prepared and forced her own Telekinesis against it, engaging in a brief struggle that she knew she was destined to lose. However it bought her enough time to duck into an alleyway and escape Mewtwo's sightline, which stopped his Telekinesis. Not that it cut out the threat... Mewtwo's looming huge Shadow Ball was still there.

For the next five minutes Sabrina dodged Mewtwo's presence by hiding in the alleyways that led to the port. She had to get there at any cost... before he found her. The last run was the deadliest, because of the promenade which brought her out into an open field. A prime target for Mewtwo's Shadow Ball. What she had not accounted for however was that the psychic Pokemon could simply change its strategy. While chasing her it dispersed the Shadow Ball and instead readied a volley of psychic arrows and waited near the promenade. When Sabrina saw no sign of Mewtwo and bursted out into the open she was ambushed by the Psychic Pokemon and only barely escaped being pinned to the wall by dodging most of the volley in a breakneck dive. But two arrows pierced her right leg. She screamed, drawing the attention of the Stormtroopers who now finally noticed the presence of the two fighters. Sabrina limped towards them as fast as she could as Mewtwo landed behind her and prepared another Shadow Ball to finish the deal. It had to be now or never...

"You there! Imperials! Help me!" she yelled. When they pointed their guns AT her rather than to defend her she hastily added: "I have information that will interest you! Mewtwo is trying to betray you! Don't let me die!"

"Weapons down", a fine voice spoke. While clearly belonging to a man it was enticing and soft like an intriguing woman's that seduced her victim with sweet words, a silvertongue like no other. No doubt was that the diplomat speaking. "What is the meaning of this?"

"An interloper, Sir Medaeus", replied Mewtwo. The Shadow Ball was in its hand but it didn't hold it ready to throw. "Listen not to her lies, she merely wishes to use your good will." Mewtwo bowed, although visibly reluctantly. "I haven't recieved any announcement of your arrival, I am afraid. I wasn't expecting you."

"The message must have gotten lost, then." Medaeus's lie sounded so innocent and self-convinced that Sabrina immediately wanted to believe him despite knowing that it wasn't the truth. Or maybe she'd misheard, maybe she was at fault? She blinked, noticing how a simple few words were making her doubt herself like that. It was no surprise that this man was a diplomat. "If that is alright by you, Lord Mewtwo, we can postpone the greetings by etiquette. The situation appears quite... special, and extraordinary situations require extraordinary reactions."

"As I said, Sir Medaeus, I am merely dealing with an interloper who disturbs the peace of our island. Your offer for aid is appreciated but is with all due respect unnecessary." It raised its hand to throw the Shadow Ball, but Medaeus made a motion of his finger and one of the Space Marines stepped forward and positioned himself so that he stood between Sabrina and Mewtwo, blocking the path with his body. Mewtwo was dwarfed by the massive figure, yet Sabrina doubted not that the Psychic Pokemon could tear this armored hulk apart in seconds. No amount of armor or muscle protected from a psychic attack. The mind could only be fought with another mind. But Mewtwo couldn't tear a diplomat's escort apart without risking a war with the Empire. It frowned and asked: "What is the meaning of this, Sir Medaeus? Why are you interferring?"

"I would like to hear what this girl has to say for herself. Surely Cinnibar holds a trial where the defendant is heard before being judged, right?"

Mewtwo frowned more and gritted its nonexistant teeth, but could not act. Sabrina knew she had won.

Medaeus stepped forward and looked down at Sabrina. She could see that he was aged... sixty, perhaps sixty-five years old, with wrinkles on his face and friendly-looking eyes. A nice grandpa, was what he looked like. But she had heard his words, she knew that out of the group he was more dangerous than even the giant bodyguards. Sure their weapons could kill hundreds, but this man's words could sway thousands. "Now then, who might you be?"

"I'm... Sabrina, my Lord."

"Please, call me Edgar." He smiled as he pulled the oldest trick in the world with those words. She knew that what he wanted was information, not to make friends with her, and that he could just turn her in if she didn't say the right thing. He wouldn't bat an eye with giving her to Mewtwo after squeezing every bit of info out of her if he deemed that she had exhausted her use.

"I am a Pokemon Trainer and former member of an organization known as Team Rocket under whose orders I conducted experiments - among others, I supervised the creation of Mewtwo in the Pokemon World. That is..."

"... the reason why he is pursuing you?"

"One of them. The other is that I know the truth." She looked back to Mewtwo, who glared at her, then spoke to Medaeus again. "It lied about not knowing of your unannounced arrival. It believes that you have intentionally not announced yourself because you pursue another goal and intend to distract it." She paused for a moment then explained on: "That is why it hatched a plan that was going to involve me, as I have psychic powers myself."

"What a convoluted story. And you say that you were chased by Lord Mewtwo because he intends to silence you?"

"That is... correct." She swallowed. Now was the crucial moment. She held her hands out before herself with her wrists next to each other as if to allow herself to be handcuffed. "I request to be put under Imperial protection and brought back to Coruscant for questioning. I fear for my life if I stay here."

"And with good reason." Medaeus laughed and made a motion with his finger, to which two of the Stormtroopers stepped up. "Bring her onto the ship. Have Lara administer first aid and ensure her safety. We're taking her back to Coruscant."

"Hold on", spoke Mewtwo. "You are still on Cinnibarian territory, as such this woman is to be judged by me. You can't take her away without grounds."

"That is correct, Lord Mewtwo", replied Medaeus. "However your grounds are right here: if her words are to be believed something is going on here that you are attempting to conceal from us and I must fear for my safety. If it reveals itself that Miss Sabrina was lying we will of course deliver her to Cinnibar care along with my sincerest apologies." He made a motion with his hand and the Stormtroopers escorted Sabrina onto the ship. "Besides, I have reports of a pair of Stormtroopers of a Prime matching Miss Sabrina's description very accurately who is cooperating with the Empire. As such she would be considered an Imperial citizen who is illegally spending time on your territories and must thus be escorted away by an imperial official. There should be no problems with that, right?"

"..."

"Perfect!" The diplomat clapped his hands. "Now as I was saying... I am terribly sorry, Lord Mewtwo, with the confusion surrounding my arrival, but I am certain that we can sort it out. I will wait at the port for a few hours to give you the time to prepare adequately... I am here to discuss the status of the DX-5 accord. The Empire would be ready to accept the demands of Cinnibar as specified on points §2.415 and §2.521 on some conditions. I am here to negotiate on the God-Emperor's behalf."

Resigned, Mewtwo took off the ground and neutralized the Shadow Ball in its hand. "This interference with our internal affairs will have consequences, Sir Medaeus, on our negotiations. However, the council and I will recieve you this evening at six as per Vasty Deep standart time, and you will be escorted by Chief Arcanine as usual. Until then the standart limitations for your freedom of movement apply."

"You need not remind me, Lord Mewtwo. I sincerely thank you for your time." Medaeus waited for Mewtwo to have taken off then turned around and went on board. Sabrina was waiting there for him. "You were speaking about a plan."

"I would prefer to explain this once my safety is assured, Sir..."

"I told you that you can call me Edgar. You have my word that you will be escorted back to Costa del Sol safely. However due to the urgency of the matter I must know what it is that our good friend Mewtwo had in store for me." When Sabrina remained quiet, Edgar sighed and clicked his fingers. One of the Stormtroopers approached, and he spoke: "Miss Sabrina requires proof, I believe. Bring me a Holotape recorder." The Stormtrooper vanished and returned a minute later with a small cubic device, which the diplomat held in hand, pressed a button and spoke to: "I, the undersigned diplomat Edgar Medaeus, ID code 5-996-2974, hereby affirm that the individual named Sabrina is officially under imperial protection and is to be delivered to Costa del Sol, where she will be released and allowed to go wherever she pleases. A copy of this holotape recording has been given to Miss Sabrina as proof of her safety. Under no circumstances is she to be given into Cinnibarian custody. Furthermore Miss Sabrina is to remain under the supervision of Stormtroopers #8.946 and #8.947. Should she go missing before the safe delivery to Costa del Sol I approve an investigation including a memory scan to ensure that nothing has occured to Miss Sabrina, and take full responsibility for her death and or banishment, should they occur." He hit the button again and ejected two small chips, one of which he handed to Sabrina and the other of which he pocketed. "Is this sufficient, Miss Sabrina?"

"I suppose so..." She cleared her throat, then explained to Medaeus what Alakazam had previously told her, in great detail. She went over some parts several times both out of her own initiative and at the diplomat's request, ensuring that no detail was left out no matter how minor. While she was speaking a woman with a band around her arm marking her as a ship doctor approached Sabrina and treated her injured leg. She supposed that that was Lara. The woman did her thing and left without a word. When Sabrina was finished the diplomat remained still for a while, thought, then finally nodded.

"Very well, Miss Sabrina. Your story is credible, and I am quite happy that you have informed us of such. We will take precautionary measures to prevent the leakage of imperial secrets to Mewtwo. As for you, you have more than proven that I was right to put you under protection. You will get two Stormtroopers to accompaign you on your way back to Costa del Sol, ensuring your safety along the way."

"Thank you... Edgar."

"You are most welcome. Though, you know... you have a smart head on those shoulders, and while what you did lacked finesse it did show bravery. Not to mention, you are a Pokemon Trainer, and as you may know the Pokemon Liberation Front has caused a fair amount of troubles in the Vasty Deep. The Empire could use someone like you."

Sabrina smiled and bowed. "I think I would like that. I will head to Coruscant as soon as I arrive."

"Very well. The holotape I gave you will prove that you spoke to me. Be sure to present it on your interview. That is everything I can do for you however... you should probably go now."

"Yes, I should... I came here by ship, I should make another. I can't wait for you to return."

"Correct. You are a Prime after all, you can will your own ship into existence."

Sabrina nodded gladly and stepped onto the port then made a beeline for the submarine that remained where she had parked it. Two Stormtroopers wordlessly followed her in and climbed through the hatch, making it a cramped space, but they could set sail. Not to worry about the size of it, she could just use Omnilium to make it bigger.

And like that Sabrina left Cinnibar Island behind, with two "souvenirs" of it in the now quiet Dark Balls under her skirt. Who knows when she would return?

[The Humble Sage]

Somehow, in midair, the Sage managed to turn himself around. He landed painfully on a sharply-edged crate, bashing his head against the corner of one of the boxes as he fell. Struggling to his feet he forced himself to keep running. The falling crates had trapped the strange boulder creature, and were actually proving a decently effective barrier to the main body of the Pokémon that were pursuing him. As he ran he risked a glance behind him, and saw that four of the creatures had navigated the obstacle and were still hot on his heels.
 
The strange metal sphere was still floating after him, and its aerial pursuit was joined by a tiny pink creature that helicoptered along on leafy strands that protruded from its head like the stem of a turnip. Two more of the creatures followed him on the ground, a burly brown ovoid being with menacing eyes and lanky limbs was chasing him with unnaturally long legs. Beside it and slightly behind was a smaller creature, reminiscent of a cricket with antennae that could almost be described as a beard, and sharply knobbed limbs that the Sage did not fancy getting anywhere closer to than he needed. It dashed along after the long-limbed fellow, droning an eerie chitter as it charged after the Sage.
 
Somehow the temporary reduction in the pursuing force did nothing to comfort the Sage. He was in objectively less danger now. Granted, he still had four creatures he knew nothing about, which seemed to be out for his blood. But he still found himself running absolutely unable to focus. He needed to plan, to prepare. There were only four of them, if he could break away from this group he could find a hiding place, plan a solution. He had to clear his head.
 
He was only half noting his surroundings, but it seemed he was moving to a more industrial part of the city, the buildings growing larger and less inviting. That was good, it would be less populated in this area, perhaps his chances of escape were not as utterly pessimistic as he had initially believed. First he needed to deal with the four that were still following him.
 
The Sage darted between the alleys of the storage buildings, a wary eye behind him at every available opportunity to gauge his pursuers to determine what he could about their fighting styles. It would not help his case to kill any of them, but he doubted he could escape them entirely through his evasive maneuvers. The two flying creatures seemed relatively weak, though the metal ball was still pursuing him despite his early retaliation. As the airborne sphere chased him, sparks occasionally jumped off of the enraged thing, leaping to nearby metal doors and piping. The insect was annoyingly fast, and seemed likely to be skilled in dueling, if the Sage was any judge. It was all in the poise. By far however, the most dangerous of his pursuers would have to be the long-legged ovoid. It was moving far too fast and with too much precision to be anything less than a master at its art.
 
The Sage dashed around a large metal device that seemed designed for the movement of the equally large metal boxes that were stacked everywhere around this part of the city. The sounds of the shore were growing noticeably louder, perhaps he was nearing the coast? Cutting left abruptly, the Sage darted behind one of the metal boxes. Pulling to an abrupt stop he bent over, trying to steady his breathing as much as possible. He counted the passing time, waiting for the moment. They were not far behind, two heartbeats… five… nine heartbeats.
 
There.
 
Swiftly, the Sage dropped to one knee, sweeping his dueling cane out and around the corner he had just passed, into the legs of the first pursuer. The long-legged Pokémon found himself tumbling across the pavement. The Sage made to press his advantage, but with a droning screech, the cricket-like enemy rounded the corner, throwing itself at the Sage in a rapid flurry of blinding strokes. The Sage whirled, countering and blocking each attack. He was at a disadvantage, one weapon against his foe’s two blades. Disarming was also not an option, unless he decided to be distastefully literal about the matter. He had the advantage in skill he believed, but as the two flyers rounded the bend, and the first Pokémon recovered his footing, the Sage knew he didn’t have the time to work through the requisite series of strikes to press the weak points in the Pokémon’s defense.
 
Sufficing for a brute strength solution, the Sage caught both of the arm-blades on his dueling cane, then shoved. His reach and larger size sent the poor cricket skidding along the floor, its carapace scraping audibly as it went. An extremely temporary solution that. The Sage thought as he ducked a swoop from the pink vegetable-creature. He brought the cane in an overhead swipe at the creature as it whirled past, but the irritating thing had moved out of range.
 
A shock jumped down his spine, causing his whole body to vibrate sharply. He grunted, turning to face the annoyingly persistent metal sphere. It was charging up again, and its single unblinking eye stared at him with a blank expression. The Sage closed the distance and thrust his cane at the creature in a swift stabbing motion. The metal Pokémon evaded his thrust, spinning in the air around his cane, electric charge continuing to grow. The Sage continued to attack, and the third stab struck the metal ball in one of its U-shaped attachments, sending it reeling in the air.
 
The Sage turned in time to be kicked directly in the chest by the unnaturally long leg of the first Pokémon. The Sage felt his feet leave the ground as he slammed heavily into the metal casing behind him. The Sage grunted, rolling out of the way as another kick closed the distance, smacking the metal where he had just been, denting it slightly.
 
Coming out of the roll, the Sage dropped into a wary stance. The Cricket-Pokémon was getting back to his feet, and the Turnip-Pokémon was also readying for another swoop. The Kicking-Pokémon was bouncing, ready to strike, but out of range of the Sage’s counters. His foe was stalling, the Sage knew it, but he couldn’t afford to avert focus away from the threat to deal with the others that were approaching. He sufficed for backing up as fast as he could, at least if all of his attackers were coming from a single direction they would not be able to keep flanking him. His back touched metal, and he stopped, taking a stance he had learned from his time with the wood elves. The four Pokémon arrayed themselves in a semicircle, surrounding him and cutting off his routes of escape.
 
Well, there would be no more running. Now he would fight, or he would fall. He had no idea what the four intended, but they seemed to believe him one of the trainers that enslaved their kind.  Whether they would simply apprehend him, or if they intended something more violent, was difficult to gauge from their inhuman faces.
 
“I just want you all to know.” The Sage said, as he eyed the four of them, waiting for the first attack, “That you are making a very unfortunate mistake.” He remained in a ready crouch, eyeing his foes for any weaknesses he could use in the coming battle. The metal sphere was listing slightly to one side, and one of the wings was visible on the cricket warrior, likely bent out of place by its impact with the concrete. The other two seemed largely uninjured, and all four looked unswayed by his attempts at parlay.
 
The Sage twisted left, dodging another kick as the oblong Pokémon stretched its leg in a lightning-fast snap kick. It smacked the metal with an audible clang, and the Sage swiftly brought his cane down on the exposed limb. It connected solidly, as the Pokémon attempted to retract the leg, and the Sage saw his foe’s face (such as it was) contort in pain as the leg returned.

The Sage registered the next attack, as the turnip and the cricket attacked together, the first swooping in while the other attacked from the ground. Almost before he knew his response, the Sage leapt, twisting in the air, diving directly into the sweet-spot between the two attacks. He didn’t quite pull it off, and the blade-arm of the cricket Pokémon raked across his back, cutting a tear into the Zora tunic as he passed overhead, but he caught the pink flying Pokémon by complete surprise, his dueling cane intercepting the creature mid-swoop, sending it directly down, to impact harshly with the ground below. The creature let out on almost pitiful "ploom." as it collided with the hard concrete, then lay still. That’s one, though the least dangerous it would seem. The Sage thought with little pleasure.
 
He landed on his feet, and whirled, bending backwards to evade another stretch-enhanced kick. There was a soft booming sound, and the Sage felt his dueling cane tug at his fingers, then slip away entirely. The Sage glanced in surprise, as he saw the metal Pokémon attempting to fly away as swiftly as possible with his cane, the metal tip stuck to its body. His foes wasted no time, the large Pokémon delivering a vicious snapping kick to the side of the Sage’s head, sending him down to the ground hard. He grunted, and immediately rolled back to his feet, narrowly evading the stab of one of the cricket’s blade-arms.
 
The metal sphere was fleeing, but the Sage sprinted after it, and with a leap managed to grab hold of the end of his dueling cane. The metal sphere made an almost pitiful ringing sound, as the added weight brought the Sage back to ground, the sphere holding on to his dueling cane’s metal. Before the creature had the presence to let go, the Sage whirled back around, swinging the metal sphere into the side of the Cricket-Pokémon’s head. The metal sphere released its magnetic grip, and both Pokémon went tumbling to sprawl on the concrete floor. There’s two and three, The Sage thought as he spit a glob of blood onto the concrete. His ears were still ringing from the kick he had received and he wasn't sure how much more he could take, only one more enemy to go. Just a little further.
 
The Sage turned back in time to barely parry a flying kick from the last Pokémon. “Hit…” the thing growled, resonating the sound from some unseen region, since it didn’t appear to have a discernable mouth. it landed smoothly, launching kick after kick with an aggressive fury that the Sage hadn’t been expecting. Has it been holding back this whole time? The Sage wondered? “mon…” it continued to groan as it pressed the Sage, who found himself backpedaling rapidly under the flurry of kicking strikes. Somehow the thing managed to stay well footed, shifting at just the right moments to keep the Sage backing up without giving any openings for a counter-attack. The Sage would have to do something quick or else he was in trouble.
 
Suddenly, his retreating foot struck something. It was light, and slid away from him as his foot connected with it. A small prone pink form rolled into view. The Turnip-Pokémon had been so light, but the Sage still felt himself overbalancing. This isn’t good he thought as his guard dropped ever so slightly. “LEEEEEE!” his opponent bellowed, leaping into the air, and shooting a limb down through his hasty block directly into the Sage’s face. His neck snapped backwards and he fell over suddenly, his head striking hard concrete. The Pokémon stood over him with a stern gaze as his vision grew clouded. That’s what you get for trying not to kill anyone… he thought, as he stared up at the bright blue blur that he could only assume was the sky. People never appreciate it as much as you might think they should.

2,037 words according to MS Word.
12,140 words total

[Undyne]

Time went by surprisingly fast for the trip back to Costa del Sol. Sabrina spent a while speaking to the two Stormtroopers who, without the necessity for strict protocol, turned out to be very friendly individuals. There was next to no danger to be faced, and even if there was they could slip into their armor at the blink of an eye. Couple that with that Sabrina wasn’t in custody or suspected of anything, and the atmosphere on the boat loosened up very soon. The troopers had no names of their own, just “8946” and “8947”, so Sabrina took to calling them “Six” and “Seven”, respectively. Both had served in the Navy before starting their work for the diplomat and so were well versed in managing a ship. Yes, ship, not that little cramped submarine that they had taken off in. Sabrina had made it her first priority to create a larger ship with Omnilium that they could spend their travels in WITHOUT breathing down each other’s necks all day long. Thanks to some instructions from Seven she was able to summon a complex ship for them, as well as a deck of playing cards and some Casino chips so they could play games with fake money to pass the time.

When Sabrina told about how long it had taken her and how she had come past the garrison island, Six laughed: “You zigzagged across the ocean. The trip takes a few days with a good ship, you on the other hand...” He traced his finger over the map in a wide S shape. “... went that way. Though to your credit, you actually made it. Most inexperienced navigators get lost in the seas or perish in a storm.”

“Oh wow... yeah, I recognize those islands, now that you say it? Was I that far off? Wow... just, I don’t even know what to say.”

“Like said, you still were on the good side. It could have gone much worse. But if you plan on going out into the Deeps again do it with a Navigator, or after taking a course. The Imperial Navy offers cheap courses for those interested in joining, but who aren’t certain yet.”

“I’ll look into it. Thank you for the advice.”

During the night, when Six and Seven were sleeping and only she herself was awake to take the helm, Sabrina took out Slowking’s and Arcanine’s Dark Balls and released the two Pokemon. Both had darkened skin or fur, blackened sclerae and stared blankly at her until she gave them a few orders to test their triggers. Without question, both sat down, rolled around on the floor of the ship, fired attacks out into the night and engaged in combat with each other when she gave the orders, until she recalled both. They were turned into Crypto-Pokemon, and unless some trainer was able to wrest them from her and restore them they would never go back to their original selves. She smiled. Those two were just the start, the first of many. Mewtwo could replace these, but that wasn’t the point. She had won. It had gotten nothing out of her, it had been forced to let her go, and she had taken two of its subordinates - trained medical staff and a police officer, no less. She recalled both to their Pokeballs and clutched them in her hands. Their surfaces began to change color and the characteristic “R” appeared. The time for hiding was over. She would display Team Rocket’s logo from now on. Who knows, she could perhaps find out if other Primes or Secondaries with an affiliation to the group lived in this place. And those who didn’t know what Team Rocket was wouldn’t bother anyway. She attached both Rocket Balls to her belt and checked the course of the ship, then let her mind drift again.

Two and a half days went by with that repeated pattern. Being the only Prime Sabrina summoned up food and water for herself, Six and Seven but other things were taken care of by the troopers. Not that much was needed, though: the seas were quiet, a steady wind kept them going and with no interferences and a proper course they soon saw Costa del Sol popping up at the horizon.

Six and Seven put their armor back on and their friendly faces disappeared behind the emotionless helmets. Sabrina took it easy though, as she knew what was expected of them. With their weapons slung over their shoulders and sailing carefully they approached the coast, and one of the two pulled out a Communicator.

“This is Stormtrooper #8496 speaking, do you read?”

“Number 8496, we read you loud and clear. What can we do for you?”

“I’m sailing the ship by the name of “Silver Line”, we are approaching Costa del Sol. Estimated arrival time to be within 20 minutes. Requesting permission to dock.”

After a few seconds of radio silence, a reply came. “Docking permission granted. Please use Bay #3 and dock at Spot #15.”

“Bay #3, Spot #15. Thank you.”

As they arrived Sabrina spotted a number of uniformed individuals waiting at theid docking spot. They helped with reeling the ship in and attaching it to the docks before coming on board and explaining the need for a routine check. The two troopers were asked to state their personal information as well as official IDs, then explain why they weren’t with their assigned squad anymore. Sabrina was questioned more thoroughly but since her explanations matched up to what Six and Seven had told they eventually allowed her to go. Nobody bothered to check the Pokeballs on her belt. They probably didn’t even know what they were.

With a short but friendly handshake she let the two Stormtroopers go. They would probably melt into the mass of faceless goons very soon and she would never see them again... the thought made a smile curl her lips before she stepped off the ship and waited for everyone to disembark before she crossed her legs and sat on the docks, beginning the Omnilium extraction process. Next stop would be Coruscant. But first she needed her Omnilium back.

[The Humble Sage]

The Sage awoke in a soft bed, a strange smell permeating the room. He blinked, unable to make the scattered fragments of thought and memory align themselves into any sort of pattern. The room he was in was unfamiliar, and smelled faintly of an apothecary. As more scraps of consciousness began to coalesce the Sage became aware of a stiff white structure of some sort that was in place around his neck, preventing him from turning his head. The Sage furrowed his brow in confusion, what was this thing? He lifted a hand to touch the construction. He was forgetting something important, he knew the reason he was there clear and present in his brain. So why couldn’t he just think of it?
 
It occurred to him that his arm was still laying on the bed. He frowned, and raised his hand again. It remained completely stationary. With a growing sense of anxiety, the Sage glanced at his other arm, but that one also proved to be unresponsive. His eyes widened, and he uttered an involuntary moan of uncertainty. Or tried to. His eyes grew wide with fear as his repeated efforts failed to produce any audible sound. He wasn’t even sure if his mouth was moving. The Sage began to panic in earnest, as the true horror of the situation became apparent to him. He wanted to shout, call for help, fight back, resist. He could do none of it, and that fact only served to make his urge to act all the stronger. The cycle continued, and the Sage began to blink away tears as his struggles refused to bring any sort of response from his body. He fought with all the strength a man could bring, but to the outside world, he simply lay in the bed crying.
 
The Sage had no idea for how long he was swept up into that fit of futile resistance, but in the end he lay there, emotionally exhausted and still wholly unable to move. The Sage’s tears had finally ceased to flow, two streaks trailing down from the corners of his eyes to strike the pillow on which he lay. The path of the tears had dried out, the skin beneath itching at the crisp, dry air of the room. The Sage blinked and tried his best to force the thought out of his brain. He could not do anything to wipe the streaks away, and his impotence threatened to overwhelm him again. The knowledge that he had no course of action served only to heighten the sensation in his skin. He would have screamed in fury, but his mouth refused to move. He had no outlet, and his emotions continued to build inside him.
 
He lay there in the bed, without any concept of time. As raging panic slowly descended into dull acceptance, the Sage forced himself to take stock of the situation. He was able to think normally, as far as he could tell. With the exception of the events leading to his current situation his memories did not appear to have noticeable gaps. He had been studying in the king’s court when the godling Omni had decided to snatch him away to this astonishing new reality. He had learned things from numerous people, and destroyed entirely too many sailing vessels for a man without naval experience. He had been searching for Clowney, on Cinnibar Island, where every citizen was something bizarrely new. The Sage assumed he was still somewhere in that city, though a glance around his room could not confirm that in any particular way.
 
The Sage realized that he was still able to move his eyes, and although his head was fixed in a single, front-facing direction, he was still able to take in the entirety of the room surrounding him. To his left, some strange metal casing flashed with a plethora of lights and numbers. One screen in particular drew his attention, and he spent some time watching the line as it traced its jagged pattern across the surface of the screen. Eventually his revere waned, and the Sage’s eyes moved on. he took in the rest of the room, a table, a chair of questionable construction, a vase with some flower that the Sage had never seen before. He took some comfort in the health of the blossom, since that meant someone had been in the room recently. His eyes came to rest on the open window. It was not a grandiose view, the strange collection of rooftops from a few nearby buildings, and beyond that only sky. I see we remain on Cinnibar. The Sage thought, though his location currently meant very little. Location is a concept derivative of motion. Without the ability to change it, the place you are at does not need to be defined. The Sage tried to sigh, but found himself unable to. It simply is. He thought, doing his best to quell the returning sense of futility.
 
Time passed, the Sage did not move. Outside his window, the sky grew darker, slowly. A tantalizing reminder of the world which he had been a part of for so long. The Sage allowed his mind to wander, reminiscing on some of the happier portions of his life, his time with Yianna and the wood elves, his days in Court, studying the histories of the realm. His adventures here after being taken by Omni. But as time wore on, these memories proved only irksome, reminders of the things he had once been capable off. In the end the Sage allowed his mind to empty, to retreat into a sort of half-sleeping daze where thoughts were infrequent and his situation was less pervasively overpowering. He spent an hour in that way, then another, then several more.
 
 He was not aware of time passing, but when he eventually came back to cognizant rationality, the first fingers of dawn were starting to reach for the night sky outside his window. There was movement in the hallway outside his room, two sets of feet, walking his direction. Despite his best efforts, hope soared in the Sage’s mind, and the tracing line on the screen beside him started to quicken its dance. Two figures entered the room, and the Sage found so many thoughts racing though his head he could barely focus. The first figure was a round pink thing, with a strange white hat. It immediately moved over to the array of lights beside the Sage’s bed, and began to press buttons with short stubby arms that reminded the Sage of that small ghost-thing he had seen earlier in the market.
 
The other was a more constrained form, a yellow being vaguely reminiscent of a fox. A drooping yellow moustache hung from its snout, dangling in front of the ornamental robe it wore. It watched the Sage with eyes that spoke of anger, and fatigue. After it had finished fiddling with the boxes beside him, the pink egg-shaped Pokémon turned back to its companion, and some sort of communication passed between them. The pink Pokémon left the room, closing the door behind her.
 
Fully paralyzed. How about that. The thing spoke, the words entering directly into the Sage’s mind. For a moment, the Sage was utterly dumbfounded. If this Pokémon could project words directly into the Sage’s mind, could he also hear thoughts that the Sage made apparent? Yes, I can do that, came the words again. There was not exactly another voice speaking in his head, the words appeared as though he himself was thinking them. However, the method of speaking, of thinking, was so alien to the Sage that he had little trouble distinguishing between his own thoughts and those of the Pokémon that was inside of his mind. You are quite fortunate that Chansey was correct in her diagnosis, human. Or else you would still be trapped in this isolation of yours.
 
“I suppose so…” The Sage emphasized in his mind, to allow the psychic type to read it. He was trying “Though I do not know yet what benefit that does either of us right now.” The Sage was doing everything that he could to maintain his composure, but just the prospect of communication with another person was elating. He did his best to keep these feelings as subtle as possible, since he had no idea to what extent the Pokémon was able to monitor his thoughts.  
 
I can read those, yes. Came the words into his brain again. The Sage would have tried to frown, but of course it wasn’t possible, so he had to suffice with projecting his dissatisfaction for the Pokémon to detect.
 
“I suppose I am in your debt. I was starting to worry about my future in this place.” he said, trying to maintain eye contact as the yellow fox-thing processed around the room. The Pokémon projected what could only be a chuckle into the Sage’s brain.
 
I wouldn’t start worrying just yet… We’ll save that for after we know what role you had in that terrorist’s attack today.

1,515 words according to MS word
13,645 words total.

[The Humble Sage]

The Sage’s mind roiled as the Pokémon’s psychic powers pried into his brain. The room faded, whirling away into indistinct colors and sounds. When the Sage’s senses were finally his own again, he stood next to the yellow Pokémon in an immense library. Shelves loomed down at them in the dim lighting, and the aisles stretched on for what seemed entirely too long to be practical.
 
“Interesting. Is this the natural state of a man’s brain?” the Sage asked as he glanced around him. He barely registered the oddness and novelty of his own mobility, so rapt was he with the surroundings. “It seems odd, that every man is but a library beneath the skin. Are you certain this is normal?” he turned to regard the ancient Pokémon with a perplexed look. The yellow fox-thing had a disturbed look.
 
IT IS NOT.
 
The words echoed throughout the entire library, their clamor shaking the shelves and causing the Sage to bend over as the sound engulfed him. The echoes reverberated throughout the aisles, before dwindling away. The Sage got to his feet shakily, looking at the psychic-type. It returned his gaze, then floated away without a word, passing through a shelf, which rippled and bent as he phased through it.
 
The Sage hesitated, then made to follow. However, he found the shelf to be entirely corporeal to his touch, and he could not discern the method the Pokémon had used. He was alone. Stranded within my own brain. Does that make me even more of a vegetable? He wondered to no one in particular. The concept was so utterly foreign that he could barely wrap his head around it, let alone the fact that it was currently happening.
 
With no better course of action, The Sage approached a nearby shelf and chose a book at random. It was a relatively thin tome, with a light brown vellum cover unadorned by any writing that would serve to identify the contents. He opened the book and began to read.
 

---

His father was pacing back and forth behind his desk, the bright sun piercing the window behind him, shrouding his features and obscuring them from view. Reynold sat in an over-sided chair in front of the desk, blinking though the light to try and read his father’s expression. He knew it would be the same as always: set and emotionless, save for the eyes. Viscount Falstaff had nearly perfected the art of utterly squelching his emotions, letting those he debated know nothing of his emotions or thoughts. But he had never been able to keep his eyes empty, Reynold had seen them enough to know the tells. For him, those eyes showed his contempt as clearly as if he had reared away in disgust.
 
“It’s not to say that I am disappointed.” His father was saying as he continued to pace.

“No, disappointment would imply that I had hoped for a different result. There was little chance that Master Korek would want to take you as an apprentice, not after your other recent failures.” The square-shouldered man turned placing both hands on his own chair, his face a shadow rimmed with light.

“People are beginning to talk; this is the third rejected apprenticeship we’ve received in the month alone.” He exhaled a sigh, "And those in and of themselves were a hasty cover up for your rejection from the academy.” Reynold sat with head bowed, interrupting would not be a wise idea in this case, it would be best to simply let his father continue. The Viscount had gone back to pacing.

“Simply put we are running out of viable options for you, boy. You’re too old and soft to begin training in the army, and since it seems neither the battle-mages nor the Lords want anything to do with you, we are left in dire straits.” His father whirled suddenly, slamming both hands on the desk and towering over his son.

“I won’t have your failures sully the name of this house, nor will I allow you to ruin everything your brothers are working towards.” Reynold caught a glimpse of his father’s eyes as the man straightened back up and turned to face the window. They shone with passion, but to what end he could not fathom.

“Don’t you understand?” he asked after a pause, back still to Reynold as he looked out the sun-bathed window. “You are slower than them, less skilled than them. The world does not suffer fools to live. You must be smarter than them.” There was a pause as Viscount Falstaff let the words sink in.

“You have no skill in magic, you have admitted such yourself. And you have little skill in combat; what other but a novice could be so easily bested by pirates and pocket-sized creatures? You have only one advantage, your own intellect. Squander it, and you may as well join one of the Six Towers. You are dismissed.”
 
Reynold stood up and made to leave his father’s study, then paused mid-step, what had his father just said? He turned back, the man was still standing there, gazing out the window, though the sunlight had vanished behind a quickly approaching storm cloud.
 
“There is one other advantage you have that I forgot to mention.” His Father called out. There was something wrong with the way his words echoed, they seemed too fluid. The Viscount whirled around again, an eerie grin plastered onto his face, “You are technically immortal, now.” Thunder sounded outside and the form of his father melted away into ink, his eyes and smile remaining until the end. Reynold fell backwards into the growing pool of ink, and the world went black.

---

 

The Sage sat down hard, his back against wood and firm leather. The book had fallen a short distance away, still open to whatever page he had been on. As he looked the words seemed to be leaking off of the parchment, trailing away into the dimness like midnight blood. The books were memories then? Or versions of them? The Sage got to his feet unsteadily, still trying to understand what he had to assume was his own mind.
 
Were there multiple memories contained within each tome? How large was this place, really? And what had happened at the end of the memory, it seemed to have been changed by something, but what could that mean? Was the Godling Omni slowly altering his memories, filling his mind with recollections of his world only? He needed answers. One at least he could determine fairly easily. The Sage glanced at the ends of the aisle, they seemed farther away than they had upon his arrival. But I suppose it is a mind’s job to change, else it is dead inside. Without hesitation, the Sage turned and began to climb one of the bookcases.
 
He reached the top without much difficulty, the years he had spent with the wood elves made this kind of climbing trivial. However, he was absolutely staggered to see just how large the archive was. The rows stretched away into the gloom without any sense of finality. This seemed too large, he doubted he could remember this many of his own memories, yet here they were clearly present. Provided this is in fact your mind, he thought, then watched a light streak down one of the far-away aisles. It was gone in an instant, the glow moving almost too fast for him to track. The Sage turned to try and follow it, and found himself face to face with the Yellow Pokémon.
 
I AM FINISHED. YOU HAVE NO CONNECTIONS TO TEAM ROCKET.
 
Again the words blasted through his mind-library, and the Sage listed over to one side as he attempted to regain his center. He was leaning perilously close to the edge of the shelf, and he threw out his hands in an attempt to steady himself. The Psychic-type seemed entirely unconcerned.
 
OUR BUSINESS HERE IS CONCLUDED.
 
As the second barrage of thought-sound shattered the archives, the Sage pitched over the edge of the bookcase. His arms spinning through the air in a vain attempt to find some purchase. He stared up at the impassive face of the Fox-Pokémon as it stared down at his falling form, then the world turned whirly again and shapes grew fuzzy and indistinct once more.

1,393 words according to MS word.
14,038 words total.

[The Humble Sage]

The Sage drifted in and out of consciousness. He was vaguely aware of his return to the world, and his sentence of immobility. The room was as gray and standard as it had been, but the two Pokémon remained in one corner, conferring quietly. The Sage strained to hear their conversation, and was slightly alarmed to hear the faint sounds of the psychic-type councilman echoing in his brain as well. He must not think I am cognizant; he’s less concerned about directing his telepathy to a single person. That’s sloppy. The Sage did his best to feign unconsciousness, as he listened in to the argument.
 
“I am just wondering if that’s a good idea, Councilman?” the Nurse-Pokémon was saying, her tiny arms waving around with clear distress, “Lord Mewtwo only sanctions the summoning of a limited number of Max-potions every quarter, he says that they should be saved for the most stringent of emergencies!”
 
The Psychic-Pokemon held up a hand to calm her, “Yes, I know. And it is commendable that you are willing to question a member of the council in defense of your orders. However…” the Psychic Pokemon’s eyes opened and it fixed its companions with a meaningful glance, “We are in the midst of just such an emergency.” The yellow fox-like being turned, gazing out the window at the street below. “The Empire is making a great deal of noise right now, sending that…Trainer… to cause chaos in our streets, then appearing before Lord Mewtwo could enact justice, and forcing him to publicly cede to their wishes. I must leave soon to attend the diplomatic meeting that the Imperial Navy has simply willed into being on a whim. There is something more to this… something we are not seeing.” it turned back to the pink Egg-pokemon, its face dropping with fatuige and worry, “I have received word that two more primes have subtly made their way to the island, I believe they are seeking the Kingdom’s astronomer. I do not like having agents of both powers here at the same time, and I foresee bloodshed before everything returns to normal.”
“Having more primes on our side will be our best chance of protecting ourselves from the worst of the onslaught. At this point I would be willing to risk even this eel of a prime running loose. His mind is a mired mess that I have no desire to revisit, but he has no affiliations. Even a loose cannon may occasionally hit its mark.”
 
The Egg-Pokémon made a motion that the Sage could only assume was a shrug, “As you wish Councilman.” She said, then left the room. The Psychic Pokémon turned back to look out the window, leaving himself completely exposed. The Sage’s hand twitched, if he could move this would be as good an opportunity for escape as he would likely get. The Pokémon did not seem to think of him as a threat, but he clearly could not trust them. He curled and uncurled his fingers, weighing his options.
 
He made the connection just as the nurse reentered the room. His eyes glanced over to the Pokémon furtively, and he saw it attaching a flask of some liquid to the machine besides him. The Psychic Pokémon turned back to watch as the Nurse placed a breathing mask on the Sage’s immobile face. The Sage’s head, as his eyes glanced back and forth between the two of them. He was running short of breath, and his sight began clouding. As he went under, words echoed in his brain.
 
“Our island is in peril. The Empire is knocking, and the Kingdom is hiding in our closet. You are no ally of ours, but you have quite poor relations with them. An enemy of an enemy is a friend, and we are short of friends right now. Time for you to fix things, Prime.”