[attr="class","gardenHead"]

[attr="class","gardenCut"]

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ARE THERE ANY BERRIES IN HERE? Even though the Cubone is unsure, it begins to throw its bone at nearby trees and plants for target practice. Surely, damage will be incurred if it is not stopped.[break][break]

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The racket eventually prompted the throwing open of one of the two of his little portable shack's doors. Out Andy stepped, clad in little more than socks shoved into sandals, a pair of boxers and a tank top. Chocolate eyes easily sourced the origin of the noises. With a stank face, he stepped back inside to reappear with a pokeball.
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Why did I bother to spend the cash on a scarecrow if it doesn't scare shit? The Alolan marowak that he beamed out would show the younger cubone the proper way to throw its weapon, hurling a bonemerang at it. After it beamed off of the cubone's skull to knock it out, Andy threw a pokeball to get the thing out of the way.

[attr="class","dangerfoot"]

[attr="class","gardenHead"]

[attr="class","gardenCut"]

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[attr="class","gardenHead"]

[attr="class","gardenCut"]

[attr="class","gardenText"]



THIS GOLDUCK seems to be having the time of its life. As it prances around your blooming garden, the duck Pokemon begins to SOAK the earth with happy rays of water; however, overwatering may drown your plants if not careful.

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[attr="class","dangertxt"]
How had he even gotten this far in? With his entire menagerie of pokemon hovering around his camp, the golduck must have been a master infiltrator. Both of the Alolan marowaks standing sentry by the door to his hut flung a bonemerang at the interloper. Upon flattening the water pokemon, the two marched over to grasp at the creature and haul it back to the hut's door, where one rapped upon it. It opened a few moments later to reveal an annoyed Andy Blackadder clad in little more than his underwear.
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''Another one in the garden?'' A marowak nodded. ''I'm going to just post Willow back there permanently,'' he spat in irritation as he produced a pokeball from somewhere and pressed it to the golduck's head.

[attr="class","dangerfoot"]

[attr="class","gardenHead"]

[attr="class","gardenCut"]

[attr="class","gardenText"]

[attr="class","gardenHead"]

[attr="class","gardenCut"]

[attr="class","gardenText"]



NIGHT DESCENDS. silence pervades the air. there is a stillborn plague that sweeps over the garden. life ceases to exist outside the confines of your cabin. you awake to a dry throat, robbed of your vision.

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the lights fail to work. your electronics won’t respond. the pokemon you had? gone. their pokeballs? nonfunctional. only your sense of touch guides you as you feel your way around.

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time comes to a stop.

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however long it takes you, the only option to break free is to leave.

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when you reach the door you notice something in the keyhole. it’s the only sense of color—pure white to contrast the pitch black of midnight.

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should you choose to open the door, you are granted a visitor.

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a voice enters your mind: calm, quiet, all encompassing. you feel propelled to listen. in fact, you have no choice, your body refuses to move.

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[attr="class","dangertxt"]
Cold. Wet. His sheets were drenched in sweat. Unusual. Nights were cool on Mt. Pyre. It was one of the reasons he had chosen to camp here. His bare, pale chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. Chocolate eyes searched across the little cabin. There Epitaph slept peacefully.
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Where had he been before?
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Shakey hands clamored over his bedside table searching for a particular medicine bottle. The sound of the pills rattling inside, the plastic falling over and tumbling to the floor stirred the gengar, who rolled over to initially glare at his careless trainer. The boy didn't notice.
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Hadn't someone been at the door?
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Casting the damp sheets to drape upon the hardwood floor, Andy rose clumsily abandoning his previous search. Staggering in only his boxers towards the door. Grasping each handle with purpose his cast it aside to reveal... The creepy green environs of Mt. Pyre. But he was certain...
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Huffing, a hand came up to push away the muddy honey locks that clung to his forehead.
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Pressing his shoulder against the frame, he slid down until his butt slammed against the threshold. Bare feet sat across the top step. A rumbling noise drew his attention. Peering through the canopy from his high perch upon the mountain, he saw a storm boiling over the terrain below.
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The clouds rose high and thick, so dark that the lightning that danced between them looked like explosions, detonating stars in a far away nebula. The cool morning air chilled the metal in his thigh. It made it throb with an unnatural anger, but his eyes didn't divert from the spectacle.
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The Darkest Day.
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His family dabbled in various types of history. Evolution. Archeological. Mythological. The details had never been of interest to him. Most in Galar didn't seem to know, or care. He had always considered it just another old story. But then wasn't Giratina just an old story too?
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''Gengar?'' The ghost stood over his shoulder, concern written into his downturned grin. What was going on? Perhaps... ''Weren't you hungry last night?'' The use of dream eater to ward off nightmares had gone back to their earliest days. Epitaph blinked in puzzlement.
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It hadn't seemed like a dream either.
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''Gengar...? Gengar.'' The pokemon took a seat beside him. A mighty clap of thunder rolled on from the distant storm. The clouds contorted as if they were a raging beast, until through an ever silver spot a ray of light broke through. It peered down through the trees to bathe his clamy body in a warm embrace.
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It had been real...
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He had to labor all night until a new day was born. To weather the storm. To bring the dawn like Khepri of old.

[attr="class","dangerfoot"]