PURCHASING/REDEEMING

welcome to the poké mart!

1X Tera Orb (500 PD, using the free Tera to give Tera Fire to Slither Wing)
3X Gachapon (Zero PD, from BMI, link to gacha thread here)
1X Type 3 Evo (50 PD, evolving Ursaring to Blood Moon Ursaluna)
1X TM/TR to give Chester C. Coins Dazzling Gleam(0 PD, redeeming one of my three from Goodbye Galar)
1X Warden Safari Ticket (150 PD)

This isn't an item but uhhhhh for posterity I'm giving the extra move slot reward from BMI on CHESTER BABEYYYYYYYY!!!

TOTAL = 700PD

do come again!

ROCKET BEAST for raptor until THE END OF RESURFACED TREASURES RACE THREAD

Trading Shred Gacha Froslass for Alba Evovae Gacha Ursaring pog??

[googlefont=Shadows Into Light]SCENARIO 1; HIS NAME IS DURANT

---

This is so fucked.

You sprint through the forest, ducking under soaring Staraptor and dodging past furious Feraligatr. It's absolute chaos, and you have to sprint through it to try and find your fucking Pokemon. You grit your teeth and tighten your grip on your Dream Ball as you jump over a burrowing... something. You don't know what, and you really don't want to know. You just gotta find your guy and get out of here before things get much worse for you.

It doesn't help that you've got the most dogshit ability known to man:

STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN - You may teleport directly upwards, minimum of ten feet, up to a hundred feet.

Yeah, it SOUNDS good. You thought it was good too, until you ended up breaking your spine in the spawn area. Luckily, you got reset before the havoc started, but it doesn't change the fact that you got stuck with a bunk ability. You don't even maintain any momentum, so you can't even use it to jump! What complete ass... But it's fine! You don't need it. You'll just make it through your own way, as you always have. Now, where the hell is your insect?

"DURANT!"

Oh, there he is. That's the good news. The bad news is that a dozen shadowy legs have shot out of the ground and grabbed you with a Shadow Hold. The worse news is that your Durant is slowly approaching, malice in its eyes, mandibles snapping open and shut with extreme violence. Shit, this isn't good. You can't move your arm enough to toss your Dream Ball. What the hell are you supposed to do here?

...No. Surely, the answer isn't that stupid. Surely not...?

BLINK! Surely yes. With Stairway to Heaven, you teleport up about ten feet in the air, and with the split second you have before the shadowy limbs can catch you, you manage to throw your Dream Ball and hit your Durant head-on. Before it can react, the bug is consumed in an oh-so-familiar red flash, and after wobbling back and forth for about three seconds, you hear that reassuring click.

You've caught Durant. The Durant you already owned. You'd be upset about that if you weren't readying yourself to hit the dirt. Or at least, you would, if the world around you hadn't frozen. A pair of prompts presented themselves, one offering strength, and the other purity. Oh, that's easy. Purity is overrated and stupid and boring, but strength? Strength is cool as hell.

So, you hit the option to Keep Your Pokemon's Strength, and then time proceeds to unfreeze and you proceed to immediately hit the ground. Needless to say, ouch.

Ultra Megalopolis. It's a weird name, isn't it? Very arrogant. It'd be like if Sootopolis was called Super Goodopolis. Though, you suppose that since they're called Megalopolans, that shouldn't come as much of a surprise. Or, were they originally called something else, and they renamed themselves when they built the city?

You don't know, and frankly, you don't really care. You didn't come here to interrogate the arrogance of aliens. You're here to scout out the city, find points of interest, that sort of thing. It's not your first choice of job, but at the very least, this place seems safer than the Ultra Plant. Less chance of getting shocked by faulty wiring, or zapped by a lightning bolt, or attacked by a gigantic being made of pure electricity. Sure, it's a little dark, but comparatively, that's easy street.

No, the hard part is navigating this mess. All the dark towering spires and pitch black roads don't exactly give you much to go off. But, c'mon. In a city this big? They've got to have a map somewhere.

But you don't find it. At least, not before you're caught. Caught by what? You don't know, but as you turn the corner, you're suddenly illuminated by a shining spotlight, so bright that it's practically blinding. After spending the last few minutes in near-darkness, looking at it makes you feel like your eyeballs are melting. That is to say--

"--FUCK!"

---

Andrea Vaneau

COURIER CARNAGE ❄ FELIZ NAVIDREAD

---

Snow is falling upon Slateport.

The city is bathed in the colourful glow of a million fairy lights, painting it in shades of red and green and silver and gold. Stalls line the streets, and hundreds of thousands of people fill them to the brim. Wherever one goes, they can hear the sounds of excited chatter and warm cheer. The mood is infectious, borderline inescapable, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why.

Christmas has come to Hoenn, and Christmas Markets have come to Slateport. Eager for a distraction from the tumultuous affairs of their homeland, people have flocked to the festivities, ready for a day of good, wholesome fun. Meanwhile, businesses big and small have also set up shop, ready to rake in the cash from the throngs of people. But more than petty escapism or common capitalism, it represents a day for friends and family to come together, to enjoy each other’s company, and to make memories that will last a lifetime.

And it will certainly be an unforgettable day.



Santa’s Grotto.

For some, a meeting with Father Christmas was the main event of the Christmas Market. Others, meanwhile, were adults with bills and responsibilities and a dozen other more pressing things to worry about. Still, between the intricate decorations, the photo opportunities, and the Stantler on display in their pens, there were certainly worse places to be. At the very least, it was quieter than the rest of the festival.

But among the artificial firs and the wintry plains of fake snow, in the midst of the overlong line to meet the big man himself, something malicious was brewing.

“Hey, HEY!”
“No pushing! I SAID NO PUSHING!”
“Tut tut…”
“Sir! SIR! It doesn’t matter if you’re a robot, you can’t cut in line!”

Shambling through the line, without regard for any of the tired parents or anxious children who had been queueing for the past thirty minutes, was an Iron Bundle. Despite the various complaints and the stern warnings from the “elves”, it continued to advance, showing no signs of slowing down. It was a curious sight, to be certain. What was one of Evergrande Mail’s Iron Bundles doing here, of all places?

Before long, the Paradox Pokemon would push and shove its way to the front of the line, standing before Kris Kringle himself. While his assistants seemed a little unnerved by the machine, the man dressed as Saint Nick wore his cheerful and whimsical character well, and greeted the futuristic Delibird with a wholesome laugh.

”HO HO HO! Why hello there, my little friend! Tel me, what do you want for--l”

Before he could finish, the Iron Bundle opened its beak wide, and proceeded to vomit a torrent of black bile over the poor, unfortunate Santa. And no matter how much the man shrieked and panicked, and no matter how much time passed, the geyser of sludge showed no signs of slowing down. In fact, it seemed to be accelerating.

---

The first round is up. Please roll with your post for this round, and each subsequent round.
The next deadline for this thread is Wednesday 15th November, 7PM GMT.
Aidan Hereford ana fell Eris Halla Kazimir Wynter Tempest Quinn

COURIER CARNAGE ❄ VIOLENT NIGHT

---

Snow is falling upon Slateport.

The city is bathed in the colourful glow of a million fairy lights, painting it in shades of red and green and silver and gold. Stalls line the streets, and hundreds of thousands of people fill them to the brim. Wherever one goes, they can hear the sounds of excited chatter and warm cheer. The mood is infectious, borderline inescapable, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why.

Christmas has come to Hoenn, and Christmas Markets have come to Slateport. Eager for a distraction from the tumultuous affairs of their homeland, people have flocked to the festivities, ready for a day of good, wholesome fun. Meanwhile, businesses big and small have also set up shop, ready to rake in the cash from the throngs of people. But more than petty escapism or common capitalism, it represents a day for friends and family to come together, to enjoy each other’s company, and to make memories that will last a lifetime.

And it will certainly be an unforgettable day.



While many might associate a Christmas Market with food and drinks and the like, that wasn’t all that the festival had to offer. No, there were plenty more unique and exotic offerings about, eager to tempt any onlookers into parting with their hard-earned cash. And, out of all these attractions, there were none more tempting than the rides.

Or, well, “rides”. While there were no thrilling roller coasters or million-dollar simulators, one could still find a small cluster of mechanical delights amid the hustle and bustle. A Merry-Go-Round spins around and around, fibreglass models of Lapras and Galarian Rapidash carrying their riders up and down. Not far from that, a small Ferris Wheel slowly rotates, giving its passengers extraordinary views from both above and below. And encircling it all is a humble train, slowly chugging along all the sights and sounds and smells on display.

It’s rather modern, and it’s far from traditional, but that hasn’t stopped people from showing up in droves. After all, who doesn’t like a theme park? Sure, this one might not be as extensive or as extravagant, but it certainly has a distinct atmosphere. If one let their guard down, they could easily get lost in the vibes--

SLAM!
”GAAAAAAAAH!”

--Which were soon soured by the sound of a heavy impact and a shrill scream. From all around, heads turned and eyes widened as they looked towards the source of the disruption. What was going on?

And the answer to that question was remarkably simple: An Iron Bundle had just suplexed someone wearing a Delibird mascot costume.

---

The first round is up. Please roll with your post for this round, and each subsequent round.
The next deadline for this thread is Wednesday 15th November, 7PM GMT.
robin coello virgil roach luka chêne trinity beckman schuyler tate

COURIER CARNAGE ❄ THE GIFT THAT WON’T STOP GIVING

---

Snow is falling upon Slateport.

The city is bathed in the colourful glow of a million fairy lights, painting it in shades of red and green and silver and gold. Stalls line the streets, and hundreds of thousands of people fill them to the brim. Wherever one goes, they can hear the sounds of excited chatter and warm cheer. The mood is infectious, borderline inescapable, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why.

Christmas has come to Hoenn, and Christmas Markets have come to Slateport. Eager for a distraction from the tumultuous affairs of their homeland, people have flocked to the festivities, ready for a day of good, wholesome fun. Meanwhile, businesses big and small have also set up shop, ready to rake in the cash from the throngs of people. But more than petty escapism or common capitalism, it represents a day for friends and family to come together, to enjoy each other’s company, and to make memories that will last a lifetime.

And it will certainly be an unforgettable day.

It’s unsurprising that the market is the most popular part of the Christmas Market. Tis the season of giving, after all, and that means it’s a season for selling, too.

If one is to look around, they can find plenty of things for sale. From collectable snowglobes to ugly sweaters to decorative wreaths, if the sight of it evokes the festive season, then one can assuredly buy it. Sure, the prices might be unreasonably high, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping the crowds from paying hand-over-fist for all manner of yuletide knick-knacks.

It’s easy to be sceptical of the rampant commercialism, but it’s hard to argue with the sea of smiling faces. Everyone is happy. Couples fawn over plush Delibirds, tourists marvel at all manner of trinkets, and children run around waving candy canes and knives in the air--

Knives?

Yes, that’s right. There are multiple kids among the crowd holding real, genuine, very sharp knives in their tiny little hands. But not just knives, no no no! Upon closer inspection, one could spot all manner of children with all manner of dubious items in their grip. Lighters, scissors, cigarettes, hammers, it seems that they’ve managed to get their hands on just about everything they shouldn’t. But how? Did they steal them? Did someone drop them? Are their parents simply that negligent?

“Wow! I can really have this? Thanks, Mister Penguin! You’re the best!”

The sound of a child’s excited cries might draw diligent eyes in that direction, where any questions would be quickly answered: There, in the middle of the street, stand a boy no older than ten, and an Iron Bundle. On its own? Not a particularly strange sight. After all, the presence of the Paradox Pokemon at the festival was widely advertised. No, the strange part was that the Iron Bundle was offering the child a gun.

---

The first round is up. Please roll with your post for this round, and each subsequent round.
The next deadline for this thread is Wednesday 15th November, 7PM GMT.
Elise Calcifet Hyakkaryōran Tsubaki Momo Sakai Jack Napier John Sullivan

Sign-ups are now closed! The following characters have been randomly chosen to participate:

GROUP ONE
Elise Calcifet
Hyakkaryōran Tsubaki
Momo Sakai
Jack Napier
John Sullivan

GROUP TWO
robin coello
virgil roach
luka chêne
trinity beckman
schuyler tate

GROUP THREE
Aidan Hereford
ana fell
Eris Halla
Kazimir Wynter
Tempest Quinn

Thank you for signing up, and apologies to those who weren't chosen. Please look forward to the raid threads, coming soon!

As you look upon the colossal form of the Regice, you feel like a Mankey staring at a Gigalith. Just being in the presence of this titan is unbearable. It feels like every nerve in your body and every neuron in your brain is freezing over. You are not looking at a Pokemon, but a nightmare. Forgotten hopes and broken dreams radiate from it as though it's a nuclear reactor of pure despair. Are you... Are you afraid of it? You don't know. Whatever you're feeling isn't as profound as what you felt when you were looking at the Vessel. It isn't as deep as that, but its so wide that it feels inescapable.

You're supposed to fight this? On the surface, it might seem plausible. Likely? No, but definitely plausible. After all, you've got a whole group of Rockets here, Beasts and Head Scientists and Underbosses and more. Plus, you've already survived an encounter with that massive Regeleki in the Ultra Plant, so you should be able to survive this battle, too. It sounds very doable, but standing where you are, it feels completely and utterly impossible.

Yeah, this is the end of the line. You've all taken this little archaeology mission as far as you can, but its time to call it quits. Know when to hold them, know when to fold them, and all that. So, as the monstrosity begins to stir, you turn to leave--

"Buzz! Icicle thinks it can stop-halt me? Have to murder-kill it! MUST KILL-MURDER IT! Buzz!"

You look back at your Beedrill, eyes wide. Really? Of all the times to get testy, it had to be now? A few minutes ago, you were picking fights with League grunts, and she was all fine and dandy. But now that you're staring down a gigantic sentient glacier, she decides this is the battle she's taking? This is absurd. You're pumping the brakes.

"Nope. We're leaving. Lets get out of here."

"Buzz! Buzz!! BUZZ!!!"

Uh oh. She's not listening. Your wasp is trying to pick the most unwinnable fight of all time, and she's not going to back down for love nor money. Well, nothing to do here but cut your losses, right? She's made her bed, and your mattress doesn't even have bedsheets. She can die if she wants, but you very much intend to live. Does it suck? Sure, but it's not like you can do anything about it. To borrow a saying from Kalos, this is very much a "say lavee" moment. Now, time to run...

...

Fuck, man. You can't just leave your idiot Beedrill to die! It wouldn't be cool at all! So, it seems you're stuck here. You're going to die a meaningless death in this nowhere cavern, and this Regice won't even be nice enough to leave a corpse behind. You'll be obliterated so thoroughly that nothing will remain of you but other people's memories of you.

So, best to leave them with a good last impression, yeah? If your opponent isn't going to give you the cool and significant death you want, then you're just going to have to make it yourself.

"Well, I don't have a will ready, so..." You look over to howard slayte, unhooking your belt and tossing your remaining Pokeballs over towards the man. "I'm leaving all my earthly possessions to you. That includes my Pokemon, my garden, and about 5000PD of assorted debt. I love you, Howard. Godspeed."

With that, you ignore your own survival instinct and sprint forth, Beedrill buzzing along close behind you. As you do, you shed your disguise. If you're going to valiantly sacrifice yourself, you want people to know who died for them. So, you knock the hat off your head and rip the mask off your face, tossing it aside. Y'know what? Fuck it, the trench coat and shirt can go too. You're a little buff, so you might as well show that off. Besides, you don't need to justify it. You'll be dead soon.

As the Hyper Beam screams past you, you grab your Mega Accessory, finger tapping on the Beedrillite glistening in the centre of it. May as well go all out, right? You took out a loan of 500PD to get it, so you might as well get your money's worth and actually use it.

So, you take a deep breath, and in an instant, Infinity Energy wraps itself around you and your Beedrill alike...



...Ghhhh. Uncomfortable. Never stops being uncomfortable. But, does not matter. What is done is done. Our power is far greater now. We are faster and stronger. Better. Better enough to smash-shatter this block of ice. Better enough to hurt it. Better enough to make it regret. How best to do that? Need to think-plan. Cannot risk mistakes. Making mistakes means we get die-killed. Do not want to be killed-die. Have to be smart. Terrible state of affairs. Thinking not our specialty. Alas. Needs must.

Toxic Spikes? Useless. Too flimsy-frail. Too small. Would not stop it. Would not even slow it. String Shot? Nnn. No. Would take too long. Too little payoff for much effort. Focus Energy? No. Not worth considering. No time left to stall-wait. Pin Missile? Not enough destructive power. Would not pierce deep-far enough. Would not break the ice. Fell Stinger? Ghhh. Not now. Too soon. Poison Jab? Right in the centre. In its not-eyes. Hit the Power Spot. Fill it with venom-toxin. Watch it all come tumbling down.

Yes. YES. Very good.

We surge forward. The human part less fast. The Beedrill part more fast. Great violent-vicious drills rear back as poison coats the surface. Wings beat with great urgency. All haste is summoned. All strength is summoned. All hate is summoned. All to deliver a Poison Jab straight to the centre.

We MUST break it.

---

Shred is using his MEGA BEEDRILL to kick Regice's ass.
OMG a crisp Shred disguise (Removed (Sexy??)??)??

You're in the middle of a nap when Arctozolt and Araquanid return from their mission. It's not particularly comfortable nor particularly restful, but considering how long the battle has been going and how hectic it's been, you figure it's best to fit in a few small snoozes rather than one big sleep. Still, you wish you'd at least had to foresight to bring a blanket.

It doesn't really matter, though. You're not going to be asleep for much longer.

"BLURGH!" Arctozolt bursts into the cave. There's no door, but if there was, it would've been slammed open. You awake with a start, and immediately turn towards the dinosaur. He's in a bad way, but he's not nearly as roughed up as Araquanid. The spider is passed out, slumped over the shoulders of the beast, and just barely holding on to a pair of unconscious captives. "S-s-s-so cold…!"

”Shit!”

You scramble out of your chair and over to the pair, Claydol and Galarian Slowbro not far behind. You’ve sent out about two dozen of your Pokemon on various missions, and these two aren’t the first wounded that have come back wounded. That’s why Slowbro is already preparing a Heal Pulse, meant to soothe the insect’s aching wounds. Meanwhile, Claydol has taken command of the hostages, using its psychic power to Imprison them.

"Brrrrrrrr..."

"You did good, bud." You pat the dinosaur on his head, before looking over to the spider. "You too. Both of you, take five."

It wasn't necessarily pretty, but it was a win for Operation Yoink, and that's all that mattered.

---

Hyakkaryōran Tsubaki
FINAL MP COUNT FOR SHRED
+100MP for SEA.
+80MP for 8 IC Posts.
+50MP for Araquanid getting KO'd.
+100MP for completing an RT Mission.
+150MP for completing an RT Battle.
+50MP for Battle/Mission participation.
+200MP for Winning an RT Battle/Mission.
TOTAL = 730MP.

Generally, Shred Zeppelin does not drink coffee. If he needs an upper, he'll just do a hard drug, and he's not talking about caffeine. Still, when he does, it's as such:

Morning - Java Flavoured Energy Drink. Shotgunned while running out the door. Drank exclusively after a hangover, and only when he has work within the next fifteen minutes.

Afternoon - Hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows. Drank exclusively when he's trying to seem like less of a wreck to other human beings.

Evening - Coffee Liqueur. Meant to be drunk in a Moscow (Pokemon) Mule, but hey, who's counting? Drank exclusively when he wants to feel nuanced when he's alone in his apartment getting drunk on a Tuesday.

3AM - Raw Instant Coffee, slightly dampened with tap water and snorted with extreme desperation. "Drank" only when he The Itch is at its worst.