Jory

WARD C For what seemed like the millionth time, I awoke this morning in an icy sweat. It wasn't the first time it'd happened. After all, much else can't be expected from a water elemental. I suppose that needs a bit of explaining. After all, I'm not exactly what you full-human types might call a "regular mortal." I am literally the eighty-thousand, two hundred and forty-third child of the East River. My mother fell in when she was twenty-three. It was her birthday and her friends had rented a boat for a surprise party. Unfortunately for my mother, the surprise didn't end when she fell off the boat. My father, the spirit of the East River, took a liking to her and took her in. He kept her alive by creating a string of air bubbles to the surface and evacuating the water from the air around her head. Ingenious, really. When she awoke, he seduced her and I was conceived. I was born on the third of September, 1993. My... abilities... didn't surface until I was roughly fifteen years of age. I'd always enjoyed swimming and such, but one day I found that water was no longer sticking to my skin. I was simply absorbing it. In an experiment, I attempted to pour alcohol on my skin. That was the first time I got drunk. I found that I could manipulate droplets of water. Nothing major, just make them float near my fingers and make them flow along a surface. When I told my mother, she wasn't surprised. She told me everything. I began to train myself in the sewers of New York. I would bring down a light and simply manipulate the flow of the water, eventually reaching a point at which I could freeze a moderately sized area of polluted sewer water, manipulate over 10 gallons through the air, and draw water vapor toward my hands to gather materials for more practice. I found that I could manipulate some plants (never bryophytes) by causing the water in their vascular systems to move. Of course, when I got into fights it drew attention. A little too much attention. That's all that they need to pay you to notice. If you step out of line, you're immediately the focus of everyone's attention. All it takes is for some SHITHEAD with daddy issues to push you over the line. Insult not just you but those you love. Assault you repeatedly in a vain attempt to quell the storms brewing in his heart because Mommy always liked his brother better. Make you so goddamn ANGRY that when you clench your fist in aggravation at your inability to fight back, frost forms on your knuckles. Abuse you. Call you weak. I wonder how he's doing now, what with the frozen veins in his eyes having caused him to go blind. Make him YOUR bitch. Anyway, it's not so bad here. They keep me in these... gloves... to keep me from using what little moisture the dehumidifier doesn't suck out of the air as spears to GOUGE THEIR FUCKING EYES OUT. I never used to be this violent, but the way they poke me and prod me just gets to me. They want to know what makes me tick. The only time I ever feel like I used to is when they take of the gloves to test my "powers." Can you believe that with all the fucking scientists here they haven't come up with a fancy name for my abilities? "Powers," like we're talking about the bloody fucking Marvel Universe. But at least I get to exercise. Some of the other testier patients don't even get to leave their cells without being stuffed with enough drugs to kill a fuckin' grizzly. But that won't stop me from getting out of here. I'm no one's toy. Fuckin' no one's.

So... this Kat tried to convince me that she called mid before me even though I was the first one to say anything in the lobby. I think having Mr. Freeze mid was a good choice. 5 items at < 40 mins. Get on my level.

Squad 1 Jory watched Aruma carefully, chuckling lightheartedly as she pushed past the acolyte with her comically sized box of pizzas. Surprisingly effective, Jory thought to himself with a grin. Suddenly, a flash of purple light shone in the door and a roar could be heard from inside the building. Jory snuck up to the building with Shredder immediately beside him and peered in the window. Aruma's Tyranitar was terrorizing the first-floor acolytes with... a... sandstorm? Okay then! "NOW!" Aruma shouted, urging her companions to get in before the acolytes could recover from the surprise. Jory hopped to his feet and, turning to his other squad members yelled, "What are you waiting for? Let's do this!" He pulled two pairs of Go-Goggles and a purple bandanna from inside his jacket, quickly donning one of the former over his eyes and the latter over his mouth. He put the second pair of Go-Goggles on Shredder and ran into the raging sandstorm. Acolytes were stumbling around, patting their pockets in search of the Go-Goggles they never thought they'd need. An acolyte stumbled in front of Jory with her Go-Goggles half full of sand and fumbled for her Poke Ball, still coughing from the sand she'd inhaled. "Shredder, Shadow Claw!" Jory shouted. Shredder nodded and sprang forward, his right claw sizzling with an ethereal purple energy. The acolyte screamed in agony and fell to the ground as her hand was separated from her wrist, the dying nerves causing her muscles to tighten around the ball. Jory and Shredder continued forward toward the staircase in the back of the open lobby. Suddenly, Jory felt a sharp impact on the back of his right shoulder. As he fell forward he shifted his weight to his right side and curled his arm in front of him. When he landed, he absorbed the impact by rolling forward on his arm and carrying through the weight to his legs. Using that momentum, he continued his roll until he was right-side-up again and stood, turning to face his aggressor. "Nice shot, Simisage," the acolyte said with a sneer. Shredder locked eyes with the Simisage and hissed, baring his fangs and raising his claws. The Simisage screeched its retort, beating its chest and firing a Bullet Seed into the air. "Now let's finish them. Simisage, use Dig!" the acolyte ordered. His Simisage dug under the floor as the acolyte laughed. "You'll never dodge this one!" I chuckled and wiped some sand from my jacket's sleeve. "That's cute. Shredder, keep an eye out for that Simisage and use Swords Dance." Shredder looked at me and grinned, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. Three blue phantasmal swords appeared around his head. He opened his eyes and let out a loud "Zan-goose!" I smiled and looked at the acolyte. "It's go time." The acolyte pointed at Shredder. "Simisage, destroy him!" she shouted. Shredder backed up three paces and Detect's signature glint lit up his eyes. Suddenly, the ground under Shredder began to expand upward. As if the rest of the world were moving in slow motion, Shredder preemptively sidestepped the Simisage's attack and leaped toward the wall. The Simisage surfaced just as Shredder's feet left the ground, its fangs out as it rocketed directly up and out of the ground. "Shredder, use Crush Claw!" I commanded as Shredder approached the wall. He turned his feet toward it and, like a bullet from a gun, sprang back off of the wall toward the Simisage. His claws began to crackle with a blue-white energy. As he reached the acolyte's Simisage, the Grass-type monkey landed and turned to face Shredder, who swung his claw and rotated forward. He landed on his feet roughly five yards behind his foe. After a couple of seconds, the Simisage fell forward, a pool of blood emanating from the two parallel gashes across its chest. The acolyte ran to her Simisage and began shaking it, then pulled a Hyper Potion out of her pocket. That was the last thing I saw before Shredder and I turned and made for the stairs again. After running past nearly a dozen more acolytes and cutting down two of them, we reached the steps to the second floor, looking back at Aruma and her Tyranitar and watching the rest of our squad make it through the first floor.

Having gotten fed up with waiting for the man to respond, I'd decided about 6 hours earlier that running through Cherrygrove was my best bet. With Rascal holding tightly to my backpack, I'd set off and kept going until I got to Cherrygrove City. After stopping by the Pokemon Center to heal my Pokemon after their battle earlier (the one that had resulted in Ironside joining my team), I went to the Mart to pick up some supplies. Once inside, I heard people talking about a rampaging Garchomp that passed through the city, heading North toward Mr. Pokemon's house. I immediately inquired as to the house's whereabouts, then began running as fast as I could toward the house. Upon my arrival at the house, I saw a decimated battlefield, a sobbing trainer, and a shaken-up Garchomp. No sign of Orpha, though. Jory approached the sobbing trainer and the other trainer whose Pokemon were pinning the crying one to the ground. "Did a girl get off that Garchomp's back?"

Squad 1 Jory listened intently to Lucas's mission briefing, nodding at each piece of relevant information. This was by no means going to be an easy battle, but it would no doubt have to be a fast one. Luckily for Jory, that was what he and Shredder excelled at. Once Lucas stopped talking and Aruma began, Jory shifted his attention to the mysterious trainer. She was asking them for so much without offering anything herself, but Jory realized quickly the importance of having a plan. "Shredder, come on out," he says quietly as he presses the white button in the middle of the all-white Premier Ball on his belt. After a brief glow of red light, Shredder appeared next to Jory. "I agree wholeheartedly with your plan, Aruma. Just tell me what you need us to do. Shredder and I focus entirely on the offensive. He has the ability Toxic Boost, which will make him even more powerful if he gets poisoned. In addition, Shredder knows Swords Dance. If he can buy time to set that up, nothing can stop his Crush Claw attack." "Zangoose!~" Shredder says emphatically, his claws glowing with aquamarine energy. A faint crackling sound emanated from them as Shredder swung his claw. Jory turned to Color and grinned crookedly, his eyes lighting up. "Color, I know we were bickering earlier. But I need you to know that I have your back in this fight." Jory looks at the other women in his squad. "We all need to have each other's backs. And to do that, we need to know what we're guarding." He looks over at Aruma. "And that means telling us who your partner is."

I call it university and I'm from America...

Squad 1 Jory laughed as Color began to storm toward the door, slowly shaking his head. This is gonna be a blast, he thought to himself as he turned around and turned to Shredder for a fist bump. However, instead of that all he saw was Shredder going googly-eyed over the acrobat's Leafeon. "Shredder!" Jory shouted in surprise. The Zangoose blushed and quickly shook his head, looking up at Jory and shrugging. "Zan~" "I know she's pretty, but you can't get distracted by that. She's vicious, man." "Zan-goose!" the Pokemon said sadly, nodding in agreement. Jory and Shredder turned to the other three, watching as they stepped out the door. "I suppose we should follow them," was all Jory could say to Shredder as the two followed Odin out of the room.

Squad 1 Jory looked at the list on the screen and smiled. It appeared that even after their bickering, he and Color would be in the same squad. Hmm... I suppose if her Leafeon knows Aerial Ace that could be a boon, but I doubt it. Shredder has the potential to help our squad a lot, especially given his Shadow Claw and immunity to Ghosts. Odin's Mismagius covers my weaknesses perfectly, but I don't know what this "Fluffy" is. I'll just have to hope Aruma can come through for us. Jory turned to the rest of the people who would be in the same squad as him for the rest of the mission and smiled. "Well, here goes, right guys?"

I always manage to self-insert but I didn't use a Cinccino because Zangoose is badass but I miss Rascal qqqqqqqqq

NeoDarkLight pls

Jory chuckled to himself and lightly fist-bumped Shredder as Color went to sit in her corner. Jory decided quickly that maybe making an enemy of her wasn't the best idea; after all, they would be working together on this mission and future ones. Plus, many of the others on the team seemed to be getting chummy already, making him feel like an ass for the way he reacted to Color earlier. Hell, she's probably not so bad. She's here, isn't she? I know that Mikael wouldn't take the risk of getting stabbed in the back. He walked around the room once, examining the Pokemon that were out. After hearing Aruma talk about her "Fluffy," Jory was wondering what exactly it was. Probably a Politoed with Drizzle or something. Eventually, Jory reached the other side of the room and circled back to Color with his Zangoose in tow. "Hey, mind if I grab a seat with you?" he asked with a light smile on his face. "Zang~" Shredder chimed in.

So... it all started when they tried to invade Vi and me at blue. We came out with 4 kills and 0 deaths and then I proceeded to steamroll their dual-top lane. 1 snowballed Garen later... On a less related note, our Heimy was being a dick the whole time because we got pissed off since he went Heimy instead of an ADC.

A young man, clearly under the age of twenty, sat in a back corner of the room. It was not that he was overly shy or anything along those lines; he just wanted to make sure he was safe. From there, he could see everyone in the room and had a clear line of sight to the doorway. He brushed his shaggy light brown hair out of what were revealed to be blue eyes that seemed to shift between blue-green and blue-gray with regularity. He brushed a piece of lint off of his teal v-neck shirt and briefly inspected the sleeve of his black leather bomber jacket. His old navy-blue Converse sneakers squeaked quietly as he dragged his feet and he adjusted himself in his dark blue jeans. As Lucas finished his briefing and exits the room, the young man in the seat began to recall how he got there in the first place. -------------------------------------------------------------------- Lilycove City, Hoenn Region- the day before last -------------------------------------------------------------------- The young man was seated at a desk in a small bedroom that was clearly his. There were movie posters on the walls and various knick-knacks on his shelves. Prominently displayed on a high shelf was a model of an old clipper ship made from soda cans. Next to it was a picture of the young man and another man who was only slightly older looking, but definitely larger. The young man looked at the picture and stood up, moving the few steps required and reaching up to retrieve it. As he examined the framed picture more closely, running his thumb over the glass, an unmistakable expression of sadness and loss entered his features. His laughter lines fade and he wiped his eyes with his left forearm before returning the photograph to its resting place. Suddenly, there was a faint knocking heard in the background. The young man looked away from the photograph and reached for his desk drawer. There was another loud knock at the door. The young man opened the drawer and, pushing a black envelope to the side, removed a Premier Ball, clipped it to his waist, and grabbed his jacket. He exited the room and walked down a short flight of stairs. He looked through the peephole and saw a man in a suit. The young man opened the door. "Can I help you?" the young man asked abrasively. "Are you Jory Robertson?" "What's it to you?" The suited man pulled out a stun-gun and zapped the young man, rendering him unconscious. ------------------------------------------------------ 25 meters below Mt. Coronet- Present ------------------------------------------------------ Jory looked up as a man in a green hoodie began making introductions, starting with the ever-popular "Yo, yo". Jory sighed and shoved a hand into his jacket pocket. As people continued to rise and introduce themselves, Jory took notice of a couple of people in particular. The first was, obviously, the rather boisterous green-sweatered man known as Elders. Probably just wants the silence to stop. It's not easy to break the ice, so I'm not surprised he didn't deliver his best, Jory thought to himself. The second person he really noticed was Rin Etsuki, the malnourished-looking shy girl who seemed to want food. A facade if I've ever seen one. Everyone here's gotta be pretty strong, so I'm guessing she's not as fragile as she looks. His mind glossed over the other few for lack of detail, but he remembered their names: Lupus, who had that showboat of a Houndoom; Dan with the telepathic Gardevoir; and that one guy who seemed to be tattooing a Dusk Ball. Suddenly, a girl a bit older than Jory jumped up and started berating everyone for... what, exactly? This girl is a little loca en la cabeza, eh Shredder? he thought to himself as he touched the Premier Ball at his hip. The Leafeon she called out seemed to be a bit on edge, but who wasn't these days? What with all the abductions for "re-education" of late, it was no surprise that everyone here was against the theocracy. The only nerve her outburst touched with Jory was that she seemed to be no different from the Gym Leaders and other powerful trainers who took advantage of the system: she wanted to become more powerful through the system implemented by the very theocracy they were all there to combat. The young man smirked and pushed back his chair, standing up and walking toward the pair. If no one else was going to set her straight, it would have to be him. "So... Let me get this straight," Jory began as he started walking toward her. He took the Premier Ball off his belt and grew it to its full size. "You expect everyone here- people who have been recruited to help bring down a system- to participate in the very thing we hope to eliminate from this world? Why should we battle trainers we know we can beat, ones who love their Pokemon and want only to carry out the miserable existence allowed them by an oppressive regime, in order to get stronger? Then we're no better than HER!" Jory continues, raising his voice. "If we sink to their level then what are we even fighting for? I know that my broth-" He stops suddenly, clearing his throat. "I know that I don't want anyone growing up the way we had to. My parents used to tell me stories about their journeys when they were young. I just wish I'd had the same chance." He looks around at the other people and grins, his eyes lighting up as he throws his Premier Ball into the air. In a flash of red light, a Zangoose appears and crosses its arms, smirking the same way Jory did. "Zangoose!" he says confidently. "This is Shredder. Oh, and by the way... My name is Jory Robertson. Just call me Jory."

Jory will be joining with Shredder, his Zangoose.

I blinked slowly, an expression of total and complete surprise plastered onto my face. Rascal poked his head out of my backpack (where he'd taken shelter from the Roar) and looked around to make sure it was safe. I continued to stare dumbly at the Garchomp and at Orpha, who had suddenly developed a social side when around gigantic dragon-y terrifying Pokemon that were way out of the level range of my own and why was she so chummy with it? Then, some guy walked up to us and asked Orpha for a battle. "Oh, no..." I said softly to myself, remembering how shy Orpha was. Next thing I knew, that cute girl with the green hair was bolting away on a Garchomp and I was diving to the side to avoid being trampled by it. I turned to the guy who'd just come out of his tent, thoroughly confused as to who all these new people were. "So... I'm thinking I'm just gonna... walk..." I said awkwardly, beginning to back away from the clearing. I was actually quite worried about Orpha at that point. With that in mind, I determined the best course of action was to start on my way to Cherrygrove City, as that's where Orpha had told the Garchomp to take her. I slowly walked over to the man who had come out of the tent and yelled at us to 'Get the hell out of dodge.' "Excuse me, sir, but I have no idea where Cherrygrove City is and I'm worried about the girl that just got taken off by that Garchomp. Is there any way you could come with me to find her?" "Min~" Rascal chimed in.

Sorry I haven't posted in a bit. Schoolwork got kinda heavy (I had 3 papers to write ). Anyway, I should be able to post sometime this weekend!

lol ADC Ahri

Voli carry ft. the auth + Tony against Team Dunk The nubs didn't bring a Darius

MERRY BIRTHMAS, SILVER

((Acquiescence said I could do a bit of dialogue for her, so don't yell at me for bunnying qq)) I rubbed my eyes, still a bit groggy from being woken up in the middle of the night. I poked my head out of my bedroll and, to my immense surprise, saw another trainer standing right in front of me. I yawned and stretched my arms, still looking at the trainer. She was around my age and had green hair. And you know what, hell if it wasn't, she was quite pretty as well. I decided I should probably get up and greet her. As I pushed back the bedroll to uncover myself, I realized I'd totally forgotten about my new traveling companion. Rascal looked up at me irritably and rubbed his eyes. I laughed at his adorable little mannerisms and turned to face the young woman again, putting a smile on my face to show her I wasn't mad about being woken up. I stood up so I could finally be face to face with the new arrival... who seemed quite unable to say anything except "Um." She quickly lifted up what at first appeared to be a stuffed animal. Only after Rascal climbed onto my shoulder did I realize she was actually using a Teddiursa to cover her face. "Well, there are better ways to make an entrance, I'll tell you that much. No harm done, though. I'm Jory," I said reassuringly, offering my hand for a shake. "What's your name." "My name's Orpha..." she said in a near whisper. I chuckled and shook my head. "You know I can't hear you, right?" She let out a soft "Eep!" and poked her head out from behind the bear. "Um... Um... Um..." I did my best to smile reassuringly again, leaving the hand out. "Come on, don't be shy! It's not like I'm gonna hurt you," I said softly. Rascal nodded and climbed down onto my hand to get closer to the Teddiursa. "Min~ Minccino Min! Ccino Minccino Mincc~" "Ursa~" the tiny Pokemon replied, waving its arms happily. "Is that a Minccino?" the girl asked cautiously. She shifted the Teddiursa to one arm and a Cottonee floated out from behind her. She gently reached out and stroked Rascal's head. "Yep! He's my first Pokemon! Isn't that right, buddy?" "Minccino!~" Rascal replied, running back up to my shoulder. "He's so adorable~! Um... I mean... Um..." The girl looked away, blushing profusely. I chuckled. "It's fine. So what did you say your name is?" "Um... It's Orpha..." she said as she gently shook my hand. Rascal's ears twitched and he turned toward a different area in the clearing. I heard what he'd heard once I was paying attention. It was the sound of something flapping in the wind. I followed Rascal's gaze and, sure enough, there was a tent there. Since when had my campsites become party central? I considered walking up to the tent, but decided that waking him up might be rude. I checked my Poke Gear for the first time since I'd woken up. I began tending the fire again, adding more sticks and a couple of small logs to what was now essentially a pile of glowing embers. "Well, it's pretty late. If you want to sleep by the fire, feel free."

I'd be down to battle just about anyone, so feel free to PM me to work it out. I'm looking at you, Acquiescence.

@rustytengo I really don't mean to nitpick, but it makes my life easier when everyone does their best to use proper grammar. Even if it takes a bit longer, you'll get good practice in. @EVERYONE MAKE SURE YOU MAKE A NEW POST IF THE EVENTS YOU ARE DESCRIBING OCCUR LATER THAN THOSE IN THE POSTS BELOW YOU. IT'S A PAIN IN THE ASS TO HAVE TO SCROLL ALL OVER THE PLACE TO LOOK FOR NEW STUFF.

I'm not posting again just because I don't want to throw the timeline out of whack. Not everyone has finished Day One. We're not referring to Act Two (post-Cherrygrove?), but to the actual time of day in the RP.

Another thing I've noticed is a distinct lack of line spacing. When dialogue shifts from one character to another, there should be a line space (I actually like to put an extra line in between to make it easier to read) like such: Bobby walked up to me yesterday. He was walking quickly and his jaw was set. "Jory, what the fuck?" "Um... Excuse me?" I asked, a bit puzzled as to why he was being so aggressive. He began wringing his hands and turned his back to me for several seconds. I distinctly heard him muttering to himself before he turned back around. "I know what happened between you and Amy," he said quietly. Bobby was not historically the quietest guy. After all, he sang in his church choir and was the captain of our school's debate team. "Oh shi-" was all I manged to get out before his tightly clenched fist collided with my face like a freight train with an aircraft carrier full of screaming babies.

I don't mean to disrespect, as you seem quite intelligent and actually know what the fuck you're talking about. I know what you're trying to say here, but saying "diary" gives it a much more personal perspective and lends itself to a "this made me feel like this because this" format. Instead, I like to think of it as extremely similar to writing in the third person with what is called a "limited third person narrator." This is a device used by many authors to focus on the protagonist because the narrator can see into the mind of only a few or even only one of the characters. When writing in the first person, it is important to remember that people cannot see into the minds of others. What makes a first person narrative so effective is the centralization of the storytelling on the events from only one person's perspective. Therefore, it is important to remember to show, not tell. Show, not tell is the cornerstone of a creative writing workshop. It emphasizes using visual cues to give away otherwise unattainable information. Take, for example, the following statement: "After I banged his girlfriend, Bobby was angry at me." Okay, maybe it's clear that Bobby would be angry at me for banging his girlfriend. But how do I know he's angry? Am I a fucking psychic? If the answer is no (which it is, unfortunately), then my knowledge of Bobby's emotions stems from how he reacts to said coitus. Now let's try a different approach: "After I banged his girlfriend, Bobby punched me in the face." Now we know that Bobby is angry at me because he lashed out physically, which is a common show of anger or malcontent. So we see here that not only does showing, not telling work more effectively and realistically, it also helps to advance the story because if a story becomes a string of emotions instead of a chain of events, the only people who will want to read it are the very same people who like to read Twilight. I am by no means discouraging the use of emotion as a powerful roleplaying tool; however, I am attempting to convey to you all a more effective way of doing so.