Individual RP: weirlind120 [Ruined Manor]
#1
Post #1

[INDENT]The spindly skeleton trees that surround the vast, broken-down complex sway in the breeze, hollow branches clicking together like haunting wooden chimes. The old wood on the Manor creaks and groans along with the trees. A shingle catches in the wind and flops to the ground. The wrought iron fence nestled atop a cobbled half-wall races around the perimeter flakes its rust off into the wind here and here. Babbs leans against her Gogoat near the intricately-cast gate, a gate that drips with overrun ivy.

Nana's about the only Pokemon she has that doesn't absolutely get the heebie-jeebies here. The old goat's just as unbothered by things as her old goat of an owner. Stately horns rest on the back of her neck as she lowers her head to graze from the grass that the rest of her Pokemon would probably never touch. Babbs gives her leaves a fond rustle.

They're waiting for Algar, a kid she recognizes and run she remembers. It was one that didn't last terribly long--though in the kind of heat they'd been in, she couldn't blame him. On their way out, she'd seen a white figure soar from the peaks of the mountains and knew quickly why. She hopes fervently that none of the Manor's legendaries were out and about today--now they were trouble, and unavoidable trouble at that.

Patiently, she lingers and waits. She's not too worried about him; he's been here before.

[/INDENT]

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#2
Murkrow let out a chirp of delight as they moved closer to the Manor. Algar couldn't wait either; it had been a while since he'd come to the park, and since his last foray hadn't been very demostrative of Algar's skills as a Trainer, he was looking forward to the opportunity to give his all again. Since he'd been taking Pressie pretty much everywhere, he'd decided on the Manor, since it'd have plenty of Ghost types to fight, and because the air and atmosphere was something Pressie was sure to love. With everything in order, Algar set out from the Ranger HQ and walked the way to the Manor to meet his Ranger.

Well, meet may not be the right word. The Ranger taking Algar today was Babbs, the same Ranger that had taken him on his less-than-flattering first run through the Park, and that made it doubly important for Algar to do this run right. He was glad to have an experienced Ranger be willing to take him on again, though, and he quickened his step as the foliage and path turned darker and darker shades. He noticed the gate first; long, winding around the Manor foreboding, as if trying its best to keep him out. Long, tall tendrils of ivy clutched at the gate, twirling up the length and adding to the creepy vibe. Algar shuddered as he looked up at it, but quickly noticed an older woman and a Pokemon not far off from the gate. Spirits lifted, he ran up to her and called, "Hey Babbs! Long time no see! It's me, Algar! How ya been?"
Abras are so cute!
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#3
Post #2

Babbs knows that mop of silver hair as soon as she sees it emerge from the darkness of the path, this time with an equally dark shadow perched upon his shoulder. Deep-set eyes squint at the figure of the bird, recognizing it quickly to be a Murkrow. Brow raises. Those were usually trouble, tame or wild, so this one would be interesting at least.

There's something flattering about the Trainer running toward her as soon as he recognizes her. It's the small things that keep Babbs' heart toasty, and the relationships she forges with her charges are sometimes the only thing that keeps her in this game. There are mornings when her aching back makes it harder to roll out of bed. She feels the rain in the swelling of her knuckles now before she smells it on the breeze. Even in this moment, she finds herself shifting the weight of her massive pack uncertainly on her shoulders.

She musters a smile for him as he approaches, lifting knobby fingers in a small wave. "Heya, kiddo, I'm doin' great, how about you?" Nana gives a sniff in his direction, though eyes linger somewhat warily on the bird perched on his shoulder. Nana's had enough experiences with Murkow-kind to also know that they're typically trouble, but she tries not to let her apprehension get the best of her. Hoof paws the ground, head lowering to lean her horns into Babbs' kimono affectionately. The old woman gives her the desired scratch behind the ear.

The gates behind them creak slightly in the breeze, reminding them all of why they're here. Even as she turns to look at it, it groans slowly open, straight out of a horror film. And like the good ole generic, death-wishing Caucasians they were, they were gonna be the first to die in it. Babbs smiles and shuffles on through, beckoning Algar to follow.

Skeletal trees bunch in tight on either side. The path races straight to the rickety old manor some fifty or so yards away, but only a couple of feet ahead, there's already a fork. A particularly pebbly path snakes out toward the right wing, toward an overgrown greenhouse missing more than a few panes.

"The greenhouse down that path used to be so nice," Babbs mused, pausing at the path's mouth to gaze nostalgically down it. "I'd be alright with seeing it again, though, if you'd like." She turns a good-natured smile his way. This was a typical sort of adventure; sightseeing, hopefully without too much trouble mixed in.



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#4
Algar could sense the apprehension as he approached, both Babbs and the grassy goat at her side's eyes looking squarely at Pressie. However, that didn't stop him from making a grand entrance, giving Babbs a well-intentioned hug. "It's been too long," he said, trying to take some of the tension off. "Also, this is Pressie! She's been with me for a while now. She's a bit mischievous, but I promise she's well behaved!" With a look, Pressie leaned over and pecked Algar's ear, noticeably annoyed that he'd have to even explain that. Algar recoiled, careful not to launch her off his shoulder, and laughed a bit. Algar noticed Gogoat also begging for attention, and as Babbs assuaged her partner, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small treat, eagerly giving it to Pressie. If birds could smile, Pressie did there, nearly bouncing on his shoulder as it devoured the tasty snack.

With Pressie entertained, San took a look around. The gate nearby creaked and moaned, both due to its age and use, and it definitely set the tone for the rest of the locale that Algar could immediately see. Dead trees, a cold, whistling wind, and the general eerie looks of disrepair created an atmosphere that made Algar shiver and Pressie perk up even more. After a moment of taking it all in, Babbs gestured them forward, smiling to herself as they went through the gate. After a short walk, a fork in the road differentiated the paths to the house proper, and an old greenhouse. Babbs mentioned how pleasant the greenhouse used to be, and Pressie poked her head in front of Algar's, poking him to move to the greenhouse as well. Algar had to admit, he was intrigued by it as well, and surely a small stop in the garden wouldn't put them out too much. "Ok Babbs, the greenhouse it is!" He said. And finally, to get Pressie to stop nagging him, he stuck his arm out, pushing her into flight. She'd be able to see if anything was wrong from up there, and Algar was sure she would enjoy getting to stretch a bit before a potential encounter.
Abras are so cute!
Joined URPG 1/28/2017!
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