SNAIL ON THE RAMPAGE

i used to dream in the dark of palisades park

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forty-eight

December 26

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grunt

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Grigori Sokolov

SNAIL ON THE RAMPAGE

POSTED ON Dec 8, 2023 17:11:14 GMT

“Scizor, no—”

Before the red insect could absolutely obliterate the owl, two things happened: said bird changed course right towards the other, much rockier bird, and that rockier bird chomped down on the Scizor’s extended claw.

“What the fuck?”

That’s all the words it could get out before ice crystals sprouted from the origin point. A chain reaction quickly took over, and before Grigori could react the metal was completely encased in ice. Like a statue, its last moments with a look of absolute rage and fury on its face.

For the grunt, though, a moment of realization. “Mr. Shred, Mr. Howard, that creature is using its powers on the Pokémon itself!”

That, or these Pokémon had both met and formed natural hatred for one another outside of his knowledge. His Scizor? Wouldn’t be a surprise, as it was the most angry and hateful of his roster. The other two? Unlikely. Impossible, even. Shirley was a sweet girl, and the Decidueye was… probably nice as well.

Grigori retreated his Scizor back. He needed another Pokémon out if he were to defeat this beast once and for all. But he needed something Stoic. Something with sense and reason in its bones. That ruled out Pumpkin… oh, Brick! His beloved Druddigon was the sensible one of the three. It would be the perfect Pokémon for the job.

So, Grigori reached for the balls on his belt and grabbed—

Huh? A flash of light stopped him dead in his tracks. One of the others must’ve sensed the commotion and wanted in on the fight. Perhaps worse, though, was that it wasn’t Pumpkin. Instead, a gleaming statue of gold erupted from the ball. Tall, proud, and—

It coughed violently. Loud, obvious hacks into one of its hands as it hunched over. After a few long, awkward seconds, it straightened back up. “Gholdengo, Gholdeno! Gholdengo Gholdengo—”

“—Stand to dust the space in there? Fuck’s sake.”

Its annoyance didn’t last long for forever; once it locked onto the other golden statue, its demeanor shifted to a much more hostile one.

“Well well well, if it isn’t Chester C. Coins. You bum,” It sniffed. Despite the cacophony of smells, it could smell the nicotine on the one in the jacket. It quickly back stepped to the man, opened one of his pockets, and stole a cigarette from the pack. “Think you could hide from your good ol’ pal Lenny?”

“Oh, but I changed my name,” It snapped his fingers, clearly wanting a lighter. “It’s Lenny L. Loanshark now. For my new business enterprise.”

“Hey, you,” it bumped Shred with its elbow, “you need a car? I can get you one for cheap. Works like a charm! No refunds, though.”

Shred howard slayte Elisabeth Fiorelli

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Lisa Bortiforte

She/Her

August 30

Camphrier Town, Kalos

Bi/Heteroromantic

Bioterrorist

Underboss

Unattached

Black Widow

5'9" / 175.26 cm height

Bury me in the roses and rot; I'll come back thorned.

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Elisabeth Fiorelli

SNAIL ON THE RAMPAGE

POSTED ON Dec 11, 2023 22:49:22 GMT

howard slayte likes this

[nospaces]

[attr="class","minimal snail"]

[attr="class","top"]

[break]
Glorious chaos ensued.[break][break]

The frozen Scizor, the fleeing Decidueye, the battered Aerodactyl -- all according to one's dastardly plans. Marvelous, marvelous.[break][break]

Wo-chien puffed itself up slightly, smug and self-satisfied with the success of its own schemes.[break][break]

And then the Gholdengo appeared.[break][break]

Hmm. Ochre eyes thinned to glowing pinpoints of autumnal rot, calculating the threat level of these interlopers and failing to see them as much worthy of its own attention. Chattery little mindless things, weren't they? Their own trainers seemed to be exhausted by them, if the expression on their faces was any indication.[break][break]

Well. No matter.[break][break]

The sludge that layered the tile floors of the communal baths began to quiver and shake underfoot, slowly animating, while it gathered around the Ruinous Beast that had summoned it. Encased in a hideous, stinking mass of mud-like ooze, the Wo-chien breathed out POISON GAS while flinging the noxious goop towards man and Pokemon alike.[break][break]

Wherever that sludgy slurry struck skin, GRUDGES and RESENTMENTS began to fester, bubble up, and burn.[break][break]

[break]
^{(I've been waiting for an excuse to use this gif the entire thread, fam.)}

[attr="class","ooc"]Shred Grigori Sokolov howard slayte[break][break]

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Magnetic

Admin Fox

He/Him

May 9th

Rustboro City

Bisexual

Archaeologist

Rocket Admin

An observer of eons cannot feel the warmth of another.

Single

5'9 (with hat) height

The future will tempt you, the present will indulge you, but the past will shackle you.

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howard slayte

SNAIL ON THE RAMPAGE

POSTED ON Dec 19, 2023 23:49:12 GMT

Wo-chien smelled bad.

Smelly ass snail. Stinky snail.

As Howard instinctively covered his mouth, he could feel the Poison Gas washing over him in waves. It felt like loan debt, like despair, like liver and onions. It was a horrendous, disgusting stench, only rivaled by the foulest gym locker ever conceived, locked with gym shorts that marinated in sweat since the dawn age.

Wo-chien smelled bad.

Shirley, meanwhile, growled in pain and attempted to snap on the heels (wings?) of the bird that had scorned it. As the gas washed over the Aerodactyl, Howard returned the dinosaur to her ball as she attempted to snap after Chester. "Fuck. Um..."

Shit, did he even have any other Pokemon in reserve? He hadn't brought anything relevant, because he thought he was cleaning a bathroom, not fighting a demonic god born from the charnel pits of human desires. In an attempt to fight the goop, Howard looked around. His eye widened as he saw a cleaning station.

Complete with bleach. Yes, that was it! Anything that smelled that terrible and decided that a place where the most corrupt and morally bankrupt members of Team Rocket bathed was the best location to nest had to be weak to bleach.

"Aha!" Howard scrambled towards it, dropping a Pokeball in the process.

Dink. Dink. Dink. It rolled towards Shred's foot, where it began to shake violently. It suddenly burst open in a flash of light.

"EYYYYYY, C'MON! LET ME GIVE A HAND, CAPICHE?"

They were all going to fucking die.

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GOD

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December 25th

Spikemunth

Northeast

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Rocket Beast

TRUE LOVE IS POSSIBLE ONLY IN THE NEXT WORLD -- FOR NEW PEOPLE

IT IS TOO LATE FOR US. WREAK HAVOC ON THE MIDDLE CLASS.

6'4" height

I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me.

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Shred

SNAIL ON THE RAMPAGE

POSTED ON Dec 26, 2023 23:20:49 GMT

"Leonard! You contemptible curr! Get away from my associate, this instant!"

THWACK! With a mighty swipe, Chester swatted the plundered the cigarette out from the hand of Lenny, his eyes narrowed with equal amounts of distrust and disdain. What was this glorified thief doing here? This craven, who hadn't even so much as graduated business school? And yet, they still claimed to be one of the twenty-six greatest businessghosts of the modern era! His mere presence here was an insult of the highest order, and it was one that Chester couldn't stand.

"I'm wise to your tricks, you useless bum, and I won't let you peddle them here! Get out of here this instance, before I give you a good and proper thrashing--"

But just like all business, it was a messy affair. No sooner than he had finished his threat did another opponent appear, one far fouler than even this dubious debtor: Donald D. Dollars. That cretin had the gall to show his face, after all he had taken from him? Why were the two of them here, unless...? No, surely not. They were trying to steal even more of his fortune, weren't they?! Well, if they thought that Chester C. Coins was going to be an easy payday, then they had another thing coming.

"HIYAH!"

With a swift yet powerful motion, the Gholdengo unleashed a powerful Wealthy Wallop upon his peers, bonking them both on the top of their heads. Alas, Wo-Chien's resentment manipulation was completely unnecessary here, for nothing could cause the hate of these fierce businessmen to burn any brighter than it already dead. Even the poisonous gas and rancid sludge it belched forth did little to affect them, splattering harmlessly upon their golden bodies as though it were common mud.

You, though? You're in fucking agony.

"Guh... Can't... Breathe...!"

As you choke on the noxious air, you look up to the trio of useless goons standing over you, and you're terrified. Is this really going to be the last thing you see before you die? These fucking lunatics squabbling amongst themselves? No, you can't go out like this. Desperate times call for desperate measures. If this snail wants to play dirty, then you're going to play the cleaner.

Digging a hand into your jacket, you pull out your rarely-used pistol, squirming closer to the barrier of Gholdengho, your sole shield against the stray shots of gunk. You take a moment to line up your shot, aimed between the legs of Chester C. Coins. Then, as soon as you see your opening, you hammer the trigger, firing every bullet you've got loaded right at the centre mass of the Wo-Chien.

howard slayte Grigori Sokolov Elisabeth Fiorelli

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Rysa

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forty-eight

December 26

Slateport City

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grunt

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Grigori Sokolov

SNAIL ON THE RAMPAGE

POSTED ON Jan 2, 2024 22:36:40 GMT

Grigori fared no better than his compatriots against the awful gas that choked them to death. A week-old corpse held no candle to this stench, this acrid odor. He couldn’t help but cough violently. Unfortunately, this only made the problem worse as he sucked in more of that Poisonous gas.

“Mr… Howard… genius…” he managed to get out between coughs and steps. He did his best to follow the Archeologist, but the shots from Shred and the several stupid golden statue Pokémon stopped him very early on. All he could do was arm himself with one of the errant mops that lie on the ground.

“Catch!” He tossed the implement to Howard. With his task finished, he collapsed to the ground. Grudges festered in his mind, and poison filled his bones like cement. Perhaps it was for the best. The grunt could easily take the other two in a fight.

While this happened, Lenny tried to and failed to catch its cigarette midair. “Hey hey hey! You gluttonous glob! Perfectly good waste of a cigarette. This is why Pa never fucking loved you!”

Wait, where the fuck did Donald come from? That bastard owed it money too! Before it could proclaim as much, though, Chester walloped him right good on the head. It held its head and fell to its knees as pain wracked its noggin.

“That’s how you greet a sibling? Wise up to THIS,” it held out a free hand and gathered dark energies in the palm of its hand. Before long, a massive orb of shadow formed and then flung itself right into Chester’s chest. It turned to Donald, gaze full of anger and malice.

“Hey, you useless bastard! Help me get this lousy lumpsum luxury, and we can split it even! No tricks,” it held out a hand to the other golden statue, words nearly genuine. However, it also crossed its fingers behind its back– the oldest trick in the book. So long as the idiot failed to notice, it’d be richer than rich.

Hopefully that weird snail didn’t tell them either. Then Lenny would have to murk it as well, and that’d get very messy very fast. No one fucked with Lenny. No one.

Elisabeth Fiorelli howard slayte Shred

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Scarlet

Lisa Bortiforte

She/Her

August 30

Camphrier Town, Kalos

Bi/Heteroromantic

Bioterrorist

Underboss

Unattached

Black Widow

5'9" / 175.26 cm height

Bury me in the roses and rot; I'll come back thorned.

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Elisabeth Fiorelli

SNAIL ON THE RAMPAGE

POSTED ON Jan 6, 2024 1:06:24 GMT

howard slayte likes this

[nospaces]

[attr="class","minimal snail"]

[attr="class","top"]

[break]
One, two, three Gholdengos defied the POISON GAS, their irritating typing defying the might of a snail-like god. Fortunately, their trainers were not so easily able to evade its touch, and even more fortunately, the GRUDGES still seeped into their Pokemon as well.[break][break]

For these poor sniveling humans, this was a terrible errand of cleaning and scrubbing someone else's crimes away. For Wo-chien, however, this was a decadent feast of petty grievances and resentments.[break][break]

Admittedly, it was more of a diner buffet than the five-star dining experience it had been hoping for, but fuel was fuel. Its goal would be to squeeze every last drop of grudges from those present, before discarding their empty, boring husks for more interesting prey.[break][break]

It reclined like the gluttonous king it was against the throne of a nearby tub, making itself comfortable in its own filth and slime to watch the trio of jesters dance for its pleasure, until ochre eyes narrowed on something new and concerning.[break][break]

That one. The one-eyed one, howard slayte. What was he up to? What was that bleach for? And why was the muscular one encouraging him?![break][break]

"We will not allow that."
[break]

A SHADOW SNEAK had Wo-chien zig-zagging with terrifying speed across the communal baths, seeking to capture the bleach before anyone else might. And should anyone be foolish enough to get in its way, well...[break][break]

The spectral energy oozing out from its shell certainly would be an unpleasant encounter, indeed.

[attr="class","ooc"]Shred Grigori Sokolov howard slayte[break][break]

[attr="class","pkmn"]

[attr="class","milkycredit"] [attr="class","fas fa-cookie-bite"]

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played by

Magnetic

Admin Fox

He/Him

May 9th

Rustboro City

Bisexual

Archaeologist

Rocket Admin

An observer of eons cannot feel the warmth of another.

Single

5'9 (with hat) height

The future will tempt you, the present will indulge you, but the past will shackle you.

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howard slayte

SNAIL ON THE RAMPAGE

POSTED ON Jan 13, 2024 8:02:13 GMT

Arceus above, the Poison Gas reeked. It was like Declan Walsh had decided to dine exclusively on Weepin'Bell's beefy five layer weepin'burritoes since Rocket had taken Sootopolis. Realistically, if Sootopolan citizens knew that this stench was within the city, they would've been crawling over the walls of the city to escape, Admin Fox's campaign be damned.

Unfortunately, Howard got to smell it while Sootopolis slept easy. Lucky bastards.

"Gyaahhhh! I'm suffering...!" Howard moaned as Shred unloaded a series of shots into the snail. Howard forgot that he had a gun. It seemed like a pretty useful thing to have, all things considered. Why bring a Pokémon to a fight when you could fill them with lead?

"EYYYYY C'MON! I'M GONNA PUT YOU IN A BOX FLOATING DOWN THE RIVER, CHESTER!" Donald snarled, sparkling slightly as he slapped Chester C. Coins with a surfboard. "Putting your ass down so deep that your Slowpoke tail company's stocks will never find you, even if they're crashing!"

Worthless Gholdengo. Howard was killing them all when he got a chance. He wondered what Underboss Fiorelli was doing right now. Maybe she was kicking a Growlithe or something.

The snail descended into shadows, darting towards the bleach.

"I'm not gonna make it!" Howard huffed as he caught the mop. Excellent! He just needed to coat it in bleach. Then, it'd be his legendary weapon that would vanquish evil from the bathrooms for the rest of time. The snail appeared near the bleach. "We don't have a shot!"

Shot. Howard's eye widened. He turned towards Shred.

"Shred, shoot the bleach! NOW! DO IT, OR WE'RE ALL DEAD!"

It would've been a dramatic line, if this wasn't taking place in a bathroom. It would've been an impressive setting, if there weren't three Gholdengos beating each other to death. It would've been a cool moment, if their fate didn't rely on bleach.

Elisabeth Fiorelli Grigori Sokolov Shred

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Raptor

GOD

He/Him

December 25th

Spikemunth

Northeast

Monster

Rocket Beast

TRUE LOVE IS POSSIBLE ONLY IN THE NEXT WORLD -- FOR NEW PEOPLE

IT IS TOO LATE FOR US. WREAK HAVOC ON THE MIDDLE CLASS.

6'4" height

I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me.

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Shred

SNAIL ON THE RAMPAGE

POSTED ON Feb 4, 2024 1:57:10 GMT

It is really difficult to overstate how badly you don't want to die here. Not that you have a list or anything, but if you did, then "In a Bathroom (Not Sexy)" would definitely be high up there. At least you aren't naked? Not that it's much of a condolence, mind, but--

"OUCH! Why, you...!"

No. NO! You WON'T die here. Even if your brain turns to mulch within your skull and your lungs fill with so much poison you can't breathe, you'll find a way to survive. No matter what, you'll find it within yourself to stand tall, overcome this snail, and march out of here so you can find somewhere nicer to die. Preferably, somewhere in front of a lot of people, with dramatic lighting, and no Gholdengo within a hundred feet.

"Shoot the bleach... Shoot the bleach... Shoot the bleach..."

As the taste of iron begins to fill your mouth, you repeat Howard's order over and over, aiming your revolver towards the bottle of bleach. Even as your vision begins to blur and your hands begin to shake, you keep the sights directly where they need to be. Then, summoning what little energy you can spare, you pull the trigger.

CLICK.

...What?

CLICK. CLICK. CLICK CLICK CLICK.

Out of ammo...? Right now...? At a time like this...?! Well. Seems like it's all over now. You're done. Brain... starting to go. Body... shutting down. Goodbye, oh so cruel world...

"I won't let you get away with this, y'hear me? I'll make you pay hand over fist for what you've done!"

And then, like a guardian angel carved of gold, with wings of a hundred dollar bills, Chester C. Coins Made It Rain. Gimmighoul coins fired all across the public baths, bouncing off tiles wherever they landed, only to hit more tiles and bounce again. With so many smooth surfaces to ricochet off, the attack's power was highly amplified, boosted to the level of an ATTEMPTED MURDER ROULETTE, though alas, not much higher than that. Still, it was a destructive attack, hitting any in its path, Gholdengo or Wo-Chien, friend or foe.

And with such a volume of projectiles pinging about, one of them just happened to be flying towards the bottle of Bleach at high speed...

howard slayte Grigori Sokolov Elisabeth Fiorelli

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Rysa

he/him

forty-eight

December 26

Slateport City

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grunt

6"1' height

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Grigori Sokolov

SNAIL ON THE RAMPAGE

POSTED ON Feb 6, 2024 21:10:06 GMT

This was no longer Grigori’s story. His heart was too busy trying to keep beating when every single cell in his body desired to give in and collapse under the weight of the poisonous gas. No, this story now belonged to Lenny.

And Lenny wasn’t about to let Chester steal its money and live to tell the tale. The coins that flew from its body bounced all over the room, but it had little effect on Lenny. All it did was serve to make him absolutely pissed off.

Its eyebrows squinted, and it too started to spin. “Oh yea, Chester?! Oh yea, Donald?! I’m makin’ sure all y’all sleep with the fishes by the end of the night!”

Lenny too Made it Rain. If the ratio of air-to-poison-to-coin wasn’t unbalanced as was, it only got worse as Lenny sent another smattering of coins all over the place. He concentrated his spread right towards Chester, which bounced off of its perfect body to little effect.

But the snail was right behind Chester, from Lenny’s position. And the accuracy left something to be desired, as a few stray coins flew right past the sibling and straight towards Wo-Chien.

howard slayte Shred Elisabeth Fiorelli

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Scarlet

Lisa Bortiforte

She/Her

August 30

Camphrier Town, Kalos

Bi/Heteroromantic

Bioterrorist

Underboss

Unattached

Black Widow

5'9" / 175.26 cm height

Bury me in the roses and rot; I'll come back thorned.

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Elisabeth Fiorelli

SNAIL ON THE RAMPAGE

POSTED ON Feb 8, 2024 0:33:11 GMT

howard slayte likes this

[nospaces]

[attr="class","minimal snail"]

[attr="class","top"]

[break]
Wo-chien had always been amused by the greed of mankind. It was one of the things that lured it and the other Ruinous Beasts to humans specifically -- their avarice, their gluttony, and their insatiable need.[break][break]

What it hadn't considered was how much a Gholdengo's greed might surpass that of their master.[break][break]

[break]

A veritable king's ransom of gold coins rained down from the heavens, defying the existence of the submarine's ceiling, as the cold glint of metal pelted against everything in sight. The lip of a bath tub. A sludge-caked toilet seat. An already far-too-defiled tile floor.[break][break]

A seemingly inconspicuous bottle of bleach.[break][break]

The residual cloud of POISON GAS was struck by a sudden explosive burst of oxidation as the white liquid splattered across the communal bathroom and everything in its path -- much to the misfortune of any golden Gholdengos and Ruinous Snails that might have been caught in that splash zone.[break][break]

As it happened, Wo-chien had proverbially SHADOW SNEAKED too close to the sun. The sun, in this case, being the bottle of bleach. This placed the begrudging creature in the perfect line-of-fire for the combination move initiated by one Chester C. Coins, and exacerbated by the presence of Donald and Lenny.[break][break]

The resulting shriek that tore from Wo-chien's throat was inhumane in its shrieking misery. It screamed as if being burned alive as the bleach warped its bamboo shell and corroded its leafy body, twisting and writhing as discoloration changed its green leaves to the same shade of autumnal rot that glowed, furiously, in its ochre eyes.[break][break]

How could those fools...? Defy our glorious wickedness...?
[break]

Spiteful as the creature was, it wouldn't depart with its head down in defeat.[break][break]

A final RUINATION rocked the entirety of the communal baths, causing the submarine to shake and tremble as if threatening to capsize. Black energy swirled outwards in enraged coils, heady with indignant fury towards every living creature in this room, before the Ruinous Beast at the center of the vortex vanished without a trace into the darkness.[break][break]

For now, at least. A creature born of grudges did not forget such slights easily, Chester C. Coins.[break][break]

In the aftermath, a decidedly messier bathroom filled with the stench of bleach remained, awaiting incomplete janitorial services.

[attr="class","ooc"]Shred Grigori Sokolov howard slayte[break][break]

[attr="class","pkmn"]

[attr="class","milkycredit"] [attr="class","fas fa-cookie-bite"]

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played by

Magnetic

Admin Fox

He/Him

May 9th

Rustboro City

Bisexual

Archaeologist

Rocket Admin

An observer of eons cannot feel the warmth of another.

Single

5'9 (with hat) height

The future will tempt you, the present will indulge you, but the past will shackle you.

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3,510 posts

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howard slayte

SNAIL ON THE RAMPAGE

POSTED ON Feb 8, 2024 1:36:42 GMT

If they ever tried to explain what had happened in this bathroom, they'd likely be locked in a cell and shot. Hell, it was probably preferable to living through this nightmare again. Especially since they now knew that Wo-chien, the Tablet of Ruin, Sealed in the Borders, Chosen of Elisabeth Fiorelli...

...could be defeated by a single jug of Dustox Bleach.

If the League ever found out, Elisabeth wouldn't see tomorrow. Wo-chien wouldn't live to see another miserable day. Hopefully Rocket was never forced to raid a cleaning closet, or Underboss Fiorelli was done for.

"I..." Howard's lips were dry and flakey. He didn't know how to describe this series of events, beyond a begrudging groan mixed with a scream for release and uncontrollable weeping. "I hate my job."

He looked at his colleagues, and at the Gholdengo, then at the utter mess the snail had caused before retreating. This would take hours to clean up. Days. Weeks. Centuries!

Unless...

Groaning, Howard trudged back to the supply closet. He picked out three fine mops, and trudged back to Shred and Grigori. After a moment, he threw the mops at the three Gholdengo, all of which were still fighting.

"CLEAN THAT UP!" He snarled, to which the Gholdengo immediately hustled with a mix of 'Gadzooks' and 'C'mons'.

"This place better be fucking spotless by the time Walsh wants his bubble bath or whatever he takes. Let's go."

The three trudged towards the door.

Elisabeth Fiorelli Shred Grigori Sokolov