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AS REMIEL SCANS THE PILFERED DOCUMENTS, his lack of expertise with meteorology proves to a frustrating barrier. he takes frequent breaks under the calm guidance of his sinistea. however, the man resumes his research. his ambition drives him into the musty, dried papers. as esoteric as they are, remiel's intelligence and fortitude gives him a head start at least.[break][break]

he stumbles upon several files documenting weather patterns hoenn in the past, present and speculated future (represented by the three records below the hoenn map). the man surmises there may be precious information gleamed from analyzing the weather's trends.[break][break]

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perhaps, finding out where the most thunderstorms has occurred will direct remiel to the next location of his investigation. do note that remiel is not simply looking at three records. these records and this "method of researching" is meant to be symbolic of all of the data crunching and analysis he is undergoing.[break][break]

in your next post, you may write that remiel is traveling to the destination you believe has had the most thunderstorms in the past, currently, and in the future![break][break][break][break]

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In the end, he'd set the data he had retrieved from the Weather Institute into a computer program similar to the one he used to map out archaeological digs. This one, however, was fine-tuned to use the data of past meteorological conditions in order to predict the present climate and the storms yet to come. Before setting it off to do its work, the royal made sure to have it highlight repeated cases of lightning storms and high intensity strikes. If he was to find more of this peculiar shock lamellae, that'd be his best bet.

After prompting it to run its calculations, the young man spent the time he had waiting preparing his backpack for travel. Wherever the program sent him next, he was almost certain it would be in another corner of the region. And, when the computer dinged, his suspicion was proven right:


It appeared that Dewford Town was his next destination. And, though it boasted its own modicum of a wild area on the surface, Granite Cave seemed to be the ideal location to start his search. If there was any more of this particular shock lamellae to be found— and if any place on the island of Dewford could hide a beast of the magnitude to produce it through, essentially, unnatural means— then that was surely the place to look. So swinging his backpack onto one shoulder and hooking it to the other, he departed with his research papers in hand and Earl in tow.

They would take a private plane from Petalburg. The weather was far too turbulent for travel upon any of his flight-capable dragons. Though, even so, the Galarian made sure to bring along a few that could fly and swim. It was best to be prepared when flying into the literal eye of the storm, after all.

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WITH THE PRIVATE PLANE BOOKED, Remiel Calcifet departs for Dewford by flight. Hoenn's seas sprawl out below. Waves carry scarves of seafoam while the skies billow with the wisps of clouds.[break][break]

The pilot speaks, his gaze concentrated on what is ahead. "So Dewford Town, eh? What would a man like you want to do on such a tiny island?" The engine hums and rattles within the aircraft's guts. "We're about to hit some turbulence. Hang tight."[break][break]

Should Remiel look out the window, he would be able to witness the plane's wings beginning to stutter. The wind hastens. Howls. Ahead, a storm begins to develop in dramatic fashion before a flash of light blinds the plane.[break][break]

Rain smashes into the aircraft's roof, streaming down its windows before a thunderous crash floods the space with its ruckus. The sky grows dark. Clouds obscure the island, leaving only stretches of black through their ethereal fog. [break][break]

Another flash of blue lightning. This time, it strikes the aircraft. Everyone would be able to hear the current travel across the plane's body— exiting out the tail; however, during its journey, an explosion rocks the back of the plane.[break][break]

"Mayday, mayday, mayday, Pelipper 719. Sir, we've lost an engine." The plane begins to descent dramatically, still headed toward Dewford.[break][break]

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Remiel had been pouring over research on his laptop when the first bit of notable turbulence struck, rocking the private plane as though some giant had just put his hands upon it. There wasn't even enough time to satiate the pilot's need for conversation. Swiftly, he snapped the laptop shut and stuffed it away in his backpack before the plane jolted again. On the other side of his window pane, he could see the dark stormy clouds begin to converge abnormally quickly upon them.

The sight of it provided some degree of cold comfort. In one hand, he should have expected this. In the other, the forecast had shown nothing but clear skies on this particular day, with storms incoming on the next. Either this aforementioned forecast had been a whole day off, which was exceedingly unlikely considering the technology employed to make it, or something very unnatural was occurring right smack on top of them.

A flash of blue lightning forces him to turn away from the window and blindly shut it. As the thunder thrums through his bones in ominous fashion, Remiel pulls himself up out of his chair and proceeds towards the pilot's cabin with firm footing and a hand anchored on each chair he passes. Eventually, as rain violently pelts their metal vehicle and the sound of the flashing alarm lights intensify, the prince manages to seat himself in the co-pilot's chair— only to be nearly thrown out of it when the plane is struck by lightning.


Remiel barely manages to regain his balance long enough to fasten himself to the chair with its belt. The alarms are blaring louder than before now, and the sound of an engulfing fire at the end of the plummeting plane roars in the background. As the pilot tries to get contact with the closest radio tower. Though he's only had a minimal amount of experience flying planes in Galar- a six-week summer course as a teenager, to be exact- Remiel does his best to remain cool under (the literal) pressure as he examines the switchboard and the status of their unexpected and turbulent descent.

After quickly putting on a headset, he speaks to the pilot through the hum of radio waves. "The second engine appears functional! You should still be able to land safely with it, right?!" He exclaims over the cacophony of sound, reaching to his belt for the luxury ball containing his shiny Gardevoir just in case.

The other hand, in the meantime, flips the two black switches at the top to turn on the A and B hydraulic flight control systems and restart the electrical systems that the lightning had fried. Perhaps his efforts would offer some degree of assistance in landing safely. Not to mention some idea, via radar, of how close they were to making contact with Dewford. Otherwise, Agnés would need to execute an emergency Teleport at just the right moment.

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THE PILOT HEEDS remiel's words as the plane wavers in the air. lightning continues to drench the plane in electric blues. despite the blinding intervals, the galarian ambassador sees a peculiar sight.[break][break]

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thunder roars as he sees multiple bolts of lightning surge straight into the rocky slopes of dewford and coincidentally, where granite cave digs deep into.[break][break]

"WE'RE GOING DOWN!" the pilot cries. the plane dives dramatically. it passes dewford's buildings and plummets toward the range.[break][break]

despite their best efforts, the plane is too damaged— or the correct maneuvers have been committed too late.[break][break]

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something shoots out from the mountains. a purple bee-like draconid watches as the plane smashes into the mountainside.[break][break][break]

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It was easy to underestimate the physics and somatic reactions of a situation when looking from the outside in. The pressure in the air rapidly dropping enough to cause a vague sense of light-headedness. The exhilarating adrenaline pumping through one's veins so potently that it was likely the only thing keeping them from outright fainting. And gravity weighing down one's body to a point that inspired a sense of sudden paralyzation. 

The pilot remained staunchly at the wheel. The various (and naturally impossible) bolts of lightning that simultaneously shot down from the sky and tore the mountains of Dewford asunder, however, seemed to have shattered the self-imposed limitations of Remiel's mind and body. A dangerous mixture of curiosity and bravery prompted him to lean forward out of his seat and try to identify the strange draconid that had emerged from below.

But, thankfully, the pilot's cry does not fall on deaf ears. And, without a word, his finger presses the button of the luxury ball he's been holding. A lovely blue Gardevoir emerges from it with a pristine glow. The grace glowing from her expression only lasts a split moment, however, before it is replaced by shock and confusion. She is forced to crash into Remy's side by gravity, holding onto his arm tightly as the calamitous sound of storm and wind persists. When Remiel speaks, he is forced to yell, even despite the close proximity between them.

"When I give the signal, I need you to Teleport us away from where this plane is going to crash! Understand?"

Agnés the Gardevoir nodded, then placed her hand on the pilot's shoulder while the other continue to hold tight to Remiel's arm. Remiel, himself, was forced to hold on tightly to chair's arms. When the moment came, he issued the order to Teleport and the three of them disappeared in a blink. The now unmanned plane would collide with the side of the mountain explosively, and that same trio now stood on a rocky ledge to watch.

Turning to his companion, the black-haired royal nods. "Thank you, Agnés." Then he notices the faint signs of a rocky path just beyond, leading below towards the crash site and into the cave. Despite this realization, and the bright blaze below, his next scan covers the clouded sky above. Agnés, in the meantime, checks to make sure the pilot is okay and heal him with a Heal Pulse if not.

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AGNES, THE GARDEVOIR, checks on their pilot. despite the successful teleportation, their companion has passed out. his lapse of consciousness is the only ailment he suffers. everything else is fine.[break][break]

they find themselves in the rugged wilderness of dewford's stony mountain range. the town is relatively far away, obscured by slopes and foliage.[break][break]

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as they catch their breath, they hear heavy steps. the steps come closer. from a nearby cave, a long, bee-like dragon, with spiky purple wings emerges from the darkness. beneath the overcast sky, the creature looks terrifying. otherworldly.[break][break]

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"heel." a feminine voice causes the purple beast to halt. from the cave, a lady, with oddly hued skin emerges, wearing a suit pulled straight from the pages of some science-fiction novella. "hello. is your friend okay? i have materials inside."[break][break]

lightning cracks above, casting the lines of her silhouette in white.[break][break][break]


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Their pilot, as it turns out, has fallen unconscious. There is hardly enough time for Remiel to acknowledge the fact, however, before the sound of approaching footsteps clutches his attention. The Galarian ambassador stands his ground as this strange creature approaches, tilting his head curiously at its features and completely alien design. Agnés, in the meantime, leaves the pilot's side to swiftly place herself between her trainer and the strange pokémon. A firm look settles into her eyes. The mega stone around her neck glints.

Thankfully, before long, a humanoid capable of speaking and understanding language makes themselves known. They, too, appear completely alien. And as far as the Galarian royal can tell, they are feminine. Her firm voice beckons the strange beast to heel, and Remiel notes the discipline between master and pokémon as the wasp-like being complies. It is eerily familiar to his own. 

Lightning cracks after the stranger has offered to, presumably, help heal their unconscious pilot. But Remiel isn't one to trust the words of a stranger so easily. "Who are you?" He bluntly asks, gesturing towards the creature beside her promptly thereafter. "And what is that? Are you behind the storm phenomena here?" He adds, his Gardevoir standing at the ready if needed.

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AS THE STORM CONTINUES OVERHEAD, rain begins to pitter-patter against the earth. the dirt sucks up the droplets as if having been parched for a very long time.[break][break]

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"i am called by philomera," her strange pokemon's head slides under hand. smoothly, she pets its skull. "this is my friend. we call them naganadel."[break][break]

she laughs at Remiel Calcifet's suspicion. her fingers curl underneath her lip, resting on her chin. "i am not able to conjure storms unless you are committing a joke."[break][break]

the rain begins to fall in harsh showers. again, the whole land lights up in a brilliant flash of blue light as thunder cracks across the heavens.[break][break]

"quick. you and your pokemon will be wet." she walks into the cave and her naganadel beckons for them with a smiling maw.[break][break]

the cave seems to hum.[break][break][break]

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Philomera.

The name wouldn't be out of place at one of the royal courts in Galar. But that hardly denoted that she was Galarian. In fact, the name itself was fairly rare in his home region. Mainly due to the fact that it had many different meanings. Or, perhaps, no meaning at all. At least, not in this world.

Regardless, the name was easy enough to commit to memory as the pale-skinned female continued. He watches with great interest in his otherwise nonchalant blue-grey eyes as the strange beast nudges her for a pat. Naganadel. The name bears no meaning to him. Though it resembles a few words he's translated from ancient tablets in the past. Whether there is any correlation, however, he does not know. But he does make a mental note.

As the nearby thunder and lightning seem to demand his attention, intensifying the torrent falling from the sky even more, the black-haired royal doesn't part his gaze from the two. He's unflinching and rapt to attention, just as Agnés. But even she blinks out of her focus when the water around her feet begins to build up into a small puddle, pooling into the cave little by little.

It is for this reason that Remiel follows Philomena into the cave without objection— despite the strange energy that seems to permeate the air within it. He turns around briefly to signal for Agnés to carry along the unconscious pilot along with them. Using her psychic abilities, she easily compels the body to float horizontally and follow them in a soundless hover. She is sure to stick close to her master the entire way afterwards, shivering with the chill but ignoring it nonetheless as they proceed. She needs to be at the ready to protect him, and has no qualms about dropping the unconscious human at a moment's notice.

Though their walk is briefly filled with nothing but the sound of thunder, the echoed pitter-patter of rain, and the crunch of their boots on gravel, Remiel eventually breaks this pause in conversation with a question."What exactly are you doing out here, Philomena? Dewford Cave is no place to find yourself on accident... my circumstance notwithstanding." He adds.

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DESPITE ITS SIZE, philomera's dragon marches quietly. each step is careful. the thick abdomen, coloured with deep purples, hauls a menacing stinger in its center. as they walk deeper into the cave, remiel breaks the silence.[break][break][break]

"we are stranded here too." philomera says as they traverse the tunnel. a bend to the right is a few feet away, and the sound of thunder rumbles through the cave. "we are trying to go back home."[break][break][break]

the unconscious pilot is heavy; however, agnes is able to carry him with ease using her abilities. still, she adjusts the height in which he carries him at times, to avoid jutting rock and overgrown stalactites.[break][break][break]

"we are almost there." she says.[break][break][break]

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ahead, the cave funnels into a large chamber. in its center, an dark draconic beast rests. it is restrained by large, futuristic black trammels, flickering with electric bolts. as the electricity hits the trammels, the black of the trammels fade into a beautiful purple— but the colour is temporary. the electricity swirls down the trammels into an odd generator situated in the back of the cavern's room.[break][break][break]

"medical supplies are to the right." she says.[break][break][break]

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The strange presence in the air intensifies with every well-placed step forward. It is heavy; energized. And he is sure he can feel the hair on his arms standing up, sending a shiver down his spine.

This unnatural force that permeates the cave is enough to keep him from asking where Philomena had come from, and how she had become stranded here. His blue-grey eyes fix on the alien-like hornet that walks with them. Suddenly, none of this seems real. It is almost as if he's walked into an episode of the Twilight Zone and failed to realize it yet.

And, just as the black-haired prince was beginning to sense that 'Naganadel' was not the source of the peculiar energy in the air, the true source of it all came into stunning view. The legendary dragon stands before him, restrained and immobile, no longer just a carving on stone or ink on parchment. Philomena is foolish if she thinks he will regard the medical supplies, and the health of the pilot, first.

Thankfully, Agnés takes care of it as she gently sets the unconscious man down beside the supplies, offering him a soft HEAL PULSE just after she's done so. The supplies remain untouched for the time being, as she does not know how to utilize them, but her act of healing is sure to be enough for now. Her attention, too, can't help but draw itself to the legendary beast. On a far more primal level, however, she can sense better than Remiel exactly how dangerous the black dragon is.

When Remiel steps forward, closer to it, the blue Gardevoir is swift to take the place where he was previously standing. Her efforts are prompted out of caution for her master, though he seems far more enthralled and curious than he does worried.  "Is this your doing?" He asks, eyes fixed on the titan as he's regarding Philomena. Though, he supposed, it could go either way really.  "Why is he being kept here? Towards what end?"

Agnés shifts her eyes towards the bizarre woman and her hornet. Remiel, in the meantime, digs into his pack before drawing out the crystallized fulgurite he'd obtained during an excursion with elijah gardner long ago. He holds it up towards the titan to see whether any reaction is made. 


Though accounts of it were rare and obscure, the black dragon went by one name in nearly every language Remiel had translated. The Chinese regarded it as 'Jiékèluómǔ'. But the rest of the world? The rest of the world knew it as:  "Zekrom."

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WHEN REMIEL'S CURIOSITY IS VERBALIZED, philomera shakes her head. she does not seem alarmed by the presence of such a powerful creature; instead, as electric bolts fly and illuminate the cave's chamber in blue, her smile remains steadfast.[break][break][break]

"THIS POKEMON IS HELPING ME." philomera says. "HELPING ME GO HOME."[break][break][break]

her naganadel cries, but the emotion is muddled by how foreign it sounds. nearby, the pilot's breathing relaxes. the healing seems to have taken effect— but he remains unconscious for now. the tunnel behind them drips coldly. droplets collecting at the end of stalactites, perhaps.[break][break][break]

"YOU HAVE MUCH POWER IN THIS WORLD. IT ATTRACTS THEM HERE." philomera turns to remiel before eyeing his gardevoir curiously. "YOUR POKEMON... IT LOOKS USEFUL." she struts toward the generator and leans close, "YOU WOULD LIKE TO GO HOME TOO, YES?"[break][break][break]

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she fiddles with the machine, pulling a lever upward. the trammels light up white, their black fading away as more electricity siphons into their structures. the zekrom seems visibly pained as its energy is sapped.[break][break][break]

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