Gold's Story Journal
#1
Hi dis my journal
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#2
Journal for November 2nd, 2019

The gate opens wide, the rusted metal clasps creaking from the weight of opening for the first time in a century. The man felt the old magic in the knotted iron, his hand tightly gripping one of the bars as he stepped through. The cool night breeze rolled over his face as he entered the solitary garden, the pale moonlight providing the small sliver of visibility he needed. The man sighed, relief washing the tension out of his taut muscles as he relaxed his grip on the gate. They hadn't come tonight. He couldn't guarantee it would stay that way, but the promise that the arrival would be delayed for even one more night was all the comfort he needed. Releasing his grip on the rusted iron, he took a seat on a small rock nearby; the rock had been his stalwart companion for the last five hundred and ninety-nine nights, and now he would open a bottle for the six hundredth anniversary of the silent garden.

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#3
Journal for November 3rd, 2019

In. Out. In. Out. HE could feel the chill run down his spine, ignoring the warning signs flashing in his head as he focused on his breathing. He couldn't see much in the fog, the moon not yet casting is waxing glance down on the barren marsh he found himself in. His Pokemon were on the ready, Tesho's claws on standby to cut the throat of any who dared approach. Mina was taking the more analytic route, the Musharna's eyes closed as it scouted around them with Psychic powers beyond his understanding. These had been his faithful companions for many summers, and their team had stayed alive this long by trusting each other to a fault. He smiled, the warm smile that had earned their respect and adoration those many moons ago. It would definitely be an enjoyable night, whatever they found.

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#4
Journal for November 4th, 2019

Tesho alerted first, the lone feather on the top of its head quivering as its ears twitched towards the sound. He followed Tesho's intense stare, slowly pushing some of the undergrowth aside as he crouched down near his focused companion. "What've we got, buddy?" He said, tossing a small cookie in the air. Ravenous claws snatched the treat into waiting fangs, as the Sneasel voraciously consumed the biscuit, careful to cover its mouth to avoid giving away their meager cover. Tesho sensed three, maybe four, nearby; even one was a blessing here, and multiple meant more treats for Tesho. Tesho licked his lips in anticipation, but for now, there was work to do. A glint caught Tesho's eye as he awaited the familiar call of its Trainer, the words that would let him go wild; every muscle grew taut in suspense. And once again, the man smiled. "Sneasel, Night Slash," he said, as the moon reached its peak.

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#5
Journal for November 5th, 2019

A ferocious howl reverberated through the night sky. The moon became a tapestry of the land beneath its gentle gaze, the man watching as each stroke made the beacon run crimson. Tesho made quick work of its prey, dispatching it with surgical ease; the small blue elephant hadn't stood a chance once the Sneasel had it locked in its sights. The man leaned down, a large hand resting gingerly on Tesho's head, a reward in itself for a job well done. Mina didn't appreciate the kill as much as Sneasel had, however; its nose turned at the smell of blood, and the man could sense the Musharna creating a Psychic barrier around itself. In times like these, however, they had to eat, and the man took no pleasure in the killing. Maybe one day, soon, they'd go back to only training and appreciating them. One day...

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#6
Journal for November 6th, 2019

But today was not that day, the man thought as he smoked a small pipe near the small campfire, his belly slightly fuller than before. Sneasel was loafing around nearby, clearly content with himself on the job well done. It licked its claws sparkling clean, the crimson tide that washed over them earlier merely a memory. Tesho had always loved the nighttime; the man had never seen him truly come alive except at night, and Mina was no different. The Musharna had begrudgingly taken part in the meal, but more out of a sense of duty than anything. The man could sense the tension and disdain building up in his companion, clear as the coming day, and so he reached into his nearby jacket pocket. It was the right pocket; as they saw him reaching, both Pokemon went to attention, expectantly, as he drew a small metal rectangle from the recesses of his coat. The harmonica was well worn, but very deeply cared for, it being one of the few pleasures they found on the road. The Pokemon waited intently as he warmed up. The expectant look in the eyes of the Pokemon radiated off the crackling campfire.

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#7
Journal for November 7th, 2019

Gonna go somewhere different today, Tesho and Mina will be back tomorrow!

Tesleen felt the rain coming long before the first droplet hit the ground. She'd always had a knack for noticing the changes in the atmosphere that led to inclement weather; she chalked it up to her grandfather, a famous meteorologist in Hoenn. It had been her grandfather who gave her the first Pokemon she'd ever received, a Castform named Link. She had loved that Castform more than anything, and loved going outside with it in the rain and snow to watch it change shapes. She'd been devastated when Link had disappeared, searching through a blizzard for him. He never returned. She always thought of Link on dark, dreary, rainy days such as this, especially as she hurried to get home before the real downpour. She glanced at her belt; three Pokemon lay dormant inside, each likely able to help her with the rain if necessary, but she would try first on her own. And so, digging in her heels, she took off sprinting down the grassy field that lay before her.

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