“You idiot!” Tavish caught the frying pan moments before it collided with his skull. His other hand grabbed and pulled Howard up to him until their two only good eyes met face-to-face. “We both only got the one!”

With all of his strength, Tavish pulled the archeologist over the bar chair and into the air. He tried to toss him as far as possible, but he’d settle for just a foot away. Anything to show this blasphemer the error of his ways. To show him the numerous sins that would haunt him. “Eat dirt, ya git!”

At least Sir had a somewhat even battle. Even as Sarizawa was struck by the powerful blow of his leek, he had a rather clever idea. The world turned upside down, catapulted by his own strong grip on his weapon. Turned against him, as the Larvitar threw him right into the jukebox.

And, well, Sir was never going to let go of his leek. That was his pride and joy. Much like a child, it would be a cold day in hell before he ever let it go. There were very few moments where it caused more problems than it solved. Unfortunately, this was one of those moments as it once again collided with a hard, solid object.

The jukebox was destroyed. Obliterated. Even though neither of them were large or terribly strong, a perfect (or lucky) throw would destroy anything. Such was the case as Sir both struck the machine in the core of its electronics, and watched the Larvitar charge forth once more.

But Sir wouldn’t let this happen without fighting back. He quickly righted himself back to normal, using the leek as a spear of stability. Momentum carried him forward, back onto the ground as it whipped the leek back forward. Finally, he charged right towards the Larvitar as well, green plant pointed forward in defense.

Who would strike true?

---

howard slayte
2/3
 
  Y|FRoj1W

As Howard turned to Tavish, the man had already raised his own fist. By the time their eyes made contact, Howard would’ve seen a glance of the fellow one-eyed man in all of his glorious rage and fury. “Go to hell!”

His fist collided with his cheek, which sent him a few feet away. “Apologize to whatever divines ye want, but they ain’t gonna recognize ye by the time I’m done with ya!”

Meanwhile, the Farfetch’d-Galar flew back with much fanfare. People were hit by his body, not to mention the various pieces of furniture rocked and even topped over. His back hit the wall, and it slid to the floor.

If only this kept it on the ground.

Instead, the bird used his leek to bring himself back upright and to point at the Larvitar. It predicted its trajectory, the wind resistance within the bar, the position from where it had jumped, and even the pressure with regard to their sea level. All this information passed within his skull, all in slow motion as it predicted the landing point of the leap.

Ah, predictable. Directly on himself? Simple, yet effective if he did not do anything about it. Surely, he would be next on the dinner plate.

Thus, the leek once again rose to the heavens. If the attack landed, it would be smacked directly into the floor. Not much could stop a Larvitar momentum-wise, but they’d be in a perfect position for him to strike. If he missed? He might as well be dead.

Yet there could only be one action. Sir dodged to the right, and brought the leek down as soon as the green ball of rage passed right underneath.

---

howard slayte
3/3

    75vnj_jB

Tavish gave the man next to him the harshest glare possible, given his lack of two eyes. A fellow eye-patch haver enjoyed their sandwich filled to the brim with greens and meats. Disgusting. Absolutely terrible. Did this man even know?

Of course, Tavish knew something like this would happen as soon as he entered. People were entitled to their own choices, even if they were the wrong ones. Even if they inadvertently supported a terrible industry that relied on the most abusive treatments thought up by the human mind, people enjoyed eating meat.

And he wasn’t one to reinforce stereotypes. He’d just have to move on with his life. Bigger fish to fry in Hoenn. But when they physically vocalized their enjoyment of it? Right next to him? Right next to his friend, Sir, the Farfetch’d-Galar, saved from a farm that stacked cages upon cages as high as the sky reached?

All bets were off.

“Keep yer thoughts t-yerself,” Tavish smacked the stranger’s shoulder. “I don’t wanna hear about your stupid, sinful sandwich.”

Unfortunately for Howard, Sir had a different idea of how to convey this thought. He hopped off the stool to the left of Tavish, waddled over, and swung its leek high into the air.

And dropped it directly onto both his and Serizawa’s plate. A perfect strike, as green collided with white.

The glass plates shattered, and the food scattered all over the bar top and the floor. Tavish glanced down at Sir, who only stared in rage at the archeologist. Defiance was the only option, and violence was the greatest message.

“Unless, of course,” the man leaned forward, directly into Howard’s personal space, “you’ve got a problem with my friend 'ere?”

---

howard slayte
No gimmicks
3/3

Before Preston could answer, another creature poked its head from the depths of the water. A blue spike, followed by beady eyes and a thick red undercrop. It looked at all the commotion above water with wicked interest, which got Tavish’ attention. Never had he heard about such a Pokémon being in Hoenn. Must’ve migrated– or brought here– and found a home in this place.

“Oi,” he called to the Pokémon, “You’ve got something to say? Yer in good company.”

Obstagoon nodded, claws drumming against the boat, “Speak your mind, if you would.”

“Intrestin’ lot ‘ere,” it croaked, “is all. Long way from home.”

“How’d you know?”

“Been following along,” it swam a little closer to the rocked boat. None of the crew recoiled, but they all gave it a more intense look as it did so. “You ain’t the only one caught in that storm. Me last trainer fell in, he did.”

“I take it that he didn’t come back up then,” Obstagoon said. “My sympathies.”

“Don’t feel sorry for the bloke,” it reclined in the water, body now gently floating on the surface of the salty liquid. “Pirate, he was. Right bastard. Would’ve skinned you alive, if he knew your skin was worth the time. But…”

“But what?”

“Need a new crew, is all.”

The Sir Fetch’d raised a solitary eyebrow. It then looked towards the other two companions, who both shared the same look. Then, they all looked to Tavish. Obstagoon tapped him on the shoulder and then did a quick motion with its hands. Too fast to be coherent, but Tavish understood it perfectly.

“Then we’ll take ye along and see what happens,” he said to the Toxicroak. While the bird dipped its leek into the water to give it something to hold onto, Tavish whirled a finger in the air. “Right, stranger. Whatever yer cause is, don’t let me find ye doin’ horrible things– er you can join the mountain of souls on the bottom of the sea.”

Thus, the small crew started their journey back towards the mainland. On the trip, Tavish made a mental list of all the supplies he’d need: food, water, understanding of the land, a chemical supplier, and a point in the right direction.

A smile crept upon his rough, patchy face: Hoenn would rue the day it made him into a bio-terrorist.

Team Rocket would learn the taste of cordite and flames. They would regret the day they stepped foot in his beloved home and sicced a demonic creature on his people.

Tavish Rose was now in Hoenn, and may the gods have mercy on their souls.

Catch attempt on Toxicroak

---

Preston Fugu

• player/ooc name: Rysa
• character tags: june sleigh , Grigori Sokolov , @maoja , tavish rose
• dropped characters' tags (if applicable): None 
• ic posts for characters:
   - Tavish
   - Grigori
   - June
   - Maoja 
• are characters in directories?: Y
• any notes/comments: I am here to cause problems and has so far failed.

“You try an’ make Sir ‘ere a meal, and you’ll be the one on the menu,” Tavish said darkly. If he hadn’t appeared serious before, he sure looked the part now. His one eye narrowed hard onto the ‘chef’ and a deep frown developed. A chef, eh? Moral or immoral?

Before he could ask, Pokémon leaped out from the waters. Tavish didn’t even raise his arms as they flew around and into him. The bird slapped any that came near it away with a wayward swing of its wing or its leek. Either way, the blows struck true without a single miss. The Obstagoon did the same, but where it lacked in accuracy is more than made up with brute strength. Each Pokémon it managed to hit flew back into the water and crashed with a monstrous splash.

Even the Stunfisk-Galar proved itself useful, as it managed to bounce itself off of Tavish’ lap and caught a Barraskewda with its outer teeth. It couldn’t hold on for long, but the bloodied fish got the memo.

The trainer did see the chef claim a Mareanie for his own ‘uses’. Slowly, Tavish crept a hand towards his back. “Oi there. What’s yer plan with that Pokémon there? Surely not for consumption?”

He kept a firm grip on his combat knife, ready to whip it out at a moment's notice. “And if so, do ye plan to give it a dignified end? Er just toss it in a pot and hear it plead fer life?”

Skipping Barraskewda

---

Preston Fugu

Obstagoon shook a large, furry hand at Preston while Tavish snatched up the rope and inched towards the prow. He did not take long to swiftly secure the tip of their glorified flotsam to their lifeline. “Not home anymore.”

The phrase stung harsher than the salty air. Personal. It hadn’t taken long for home-sickness to grip his heart and pull it back towards ‘home’.

And then he remembered his mission, and his heart steeled against the pangs. He needed to ensure that there was even a home left to return to. One free from intruders and wrong-doers. Those that called this cesspool a ‘home’. Even if his was a forced exile, part of it was self-imposed. Resolve the issue with Rocket stealing their Pokémon, and ensure Rocket does not survive this current power struggle.

Only then could he go back.

“Luck, eh? Some’d call this a bloody coincidence,” Tavish said. He leaned forward in his ‘seat’, as if ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. It’d be a tough fight. This man looked like he’d seen his fair share of conflict. No way in hell it was purely from his life at sea. Those had different scars and a different weariness.

“So, ye a fisher? Diver? Er a trouble-maker?”

---

Preston Fugu

The rough hum of the boat motor, an affront to the graceful scenery of pure nature, did indeed get the attention of the two Pokémon. Farfetch’d-Galar calmly watched the boat slowly peak over the water’s edge, eyes transfixed on its runner. Friend, foe, or somewhere in between?

“Gha!” the bird brought its hard leak on top the heads of the other two with one swift, precise motion. Obstagoon clutched its head as it glared at the bird, then towards the distant sound. The trainer, dressed in full combat gear, roused with much more vigor and zeal than its companion.

“Ay, watch yer swings! Not lookin’ t’lose me head!” he shouted. However, he too looked towards the thrum of an engine and the waters that parted ways from the bow. His one good (and only) eye watched with apprehension. No way the news of his ‘escape’ reached Hoenn this fast. He wasn’t nearly big enough of a fish to worry about either.

And that’s what he needed to bank on.

Practiced movements brought his boots from just below the water line and up into a sitting position atop the boat without it going right-side up again. By the time Preston arrived to the scene, all of its captives watched him with mixed expressions.

Including a very flat… thing. A bear trap with eyes, perfect for the forest floor but incredibly obvious in the brown and blues and yellows of the orange sea. That particular Pokémon watched with the most vicious expression of them all. Tavish waved a hand to the stranger.

“Aye there,” he called out, “ye’ve come at the ripest time! Not sure ‘ow much longer we’d last out ‘ere with our meager supplies.”

No supplies, actually. Ran out yesterday. But this person didn’t need to know the details. Not until they proved to be harmless at worst.

---

Preston Fugu

What a beautiful morning, off the Eastern Cost of Dewford. Even though the air grew colder and the nights longer, that did not change the fact that the sun warmed the surface water quick and kept the sea breeze in line. Which, the sun rays caught off the deep blue water and reflected themselves in a perfect kaleidoscopic pattern.

However, not all was sunshine and rainbows. Slowly, the tattered remains of a row-boat peacefully floated on top of the water. Overturned, its few supplies danced around its carcass ominously. A ritual of taboo kind, the one that promised death and ruin for all those aboard. But... where were the corpses? Already devoured by Sharpedo and WishiWashi? Or stuck under the floatsam, nostril bombs hidden for the unlucky person to rock the wooden dingy.

If one dared get close enough, they'd see that the boat was not desolate. Stretched across its belly were two figures, one red and black and the other black and white. A lone bird, leek in wing, kept careful watch over the pair. A trainer, their Obstagoon, and their Farfetch'd-Galar, stranded and left for dead.

Just what had happened here?

---

Preston Fugu