(ELITE) The DESERT Team

The endless desert sands whipped through the air, useless in hindering the progress of the great creature that was Registeel. He was implacable, and lumbered through the desert of Hoenn, a location he had been traveling to for months on end. Finally, the long journey was almost at its end, and soon Regirock would be awoken from his slumber in the Desert Ruins. After him, Regice...then they would be a trio once more. How long had it been since they'd been separated? Registeel could barely remember the times before the long sleep, when he and his siblings reigned, but that did not matter. He was awake once more; it was his task to stir the others from their limbo. This desert would not stop him. No place, Pokemon, or human could stop him. The idea of anything in this place breaking his armor, or his spirit...what a laughable concept.

His six red eyes swept over the landscape; the ruins could not be far now. As he kept the same ambling pace, there was a sudden crunch and a sharp screech from underneath his feet, but the Legend ignored it. He was so close. If Registeel had an organic heart, it would have surely started racing. Those rocks in the distance...the Ruins, there could be no doubt about it. There was no other place in this desert it could possibly be. Seeing the ruins brought back a faint recollection of both Regirock and Regice; he could not recall what had happened then, only the image of those two. Despite how long it had been, Registeel had not forgotten how his siblings looked, and that included Regirock's moronic face. The time for them to rot in their prisons, trapped by humans, that was done with. Registeel was free, and he would not keep Regirock waiting any longer. His search was almost over.

The sand stung, biting at the woman's exposed skin, as little as there was, and threatening to rub it raw. "Spiiiirit!" Courtney whined, a noticeable pout marring the facial features that were visible beneath the large, round goggles she wore to protect her eyes. "How much further?" The trainer's lilac hair poked out above her forehead, tiny specks of the whirling sand getting stuck within it even as the go-go goggles washed out her violet eyes.

"You don't know and neither do I," the Ninetales in questioned sighed, pausing from where she walked in front of her trainer. The vulpine's silvery blue fur even more bleached than her master's own eyes. Her blue eyes were tired, ears and tail drooping while a Blaziken stopped beside the human.
He also sighed, narrowing his eyes against the constant onslaught. "We do not even know if the bunker is still here, or in working condition," Blaze pointed out not for the first time. He rose one arm above his head in attempt to shield from the sand before adding, "Maxie might not even be here, not to mention Tabi or Blaise."

Silver knew he was right, the shiny's intelligent eyes flickering to their human, but Courtney's scowl turned into a vicious pout. "We keep trying until we find that bunker!" she snapped, the order clear cut and leaving no room for argument. The outburst caused the smallest and youngest of the group to dart beneath Spirit's tails, the Quilava watching with round eyes.
"Of course," the Ninetales replied smoothly, though her limbs betrayed her exhaustion.

At that point Courtney began stomping forward again, her palms twitchy. The long bladed machete on her back was there if need be, but being so blind in the desert was dangerous. As her two loyal Pokemon moved to follow, the Magma Admin plucked up Flame from the ground and led the way without missing a beat. "Thank you," he purred gratefully, burying his pointy face in her jacket to avoid the sand getting in his eyes. She responded by resting her chin on the back of his head, but there was no emotion in her eyes or on her face anymore.

Maxie had a number of different places to hunker down if need be, she had been lucky to find one so rapidly into the epidemic, she was only reminded of this as music continued to dance around in her head from the hidden earphones beneath her hood and short hair. She refused to give up, she would find someone who mattered, Brendan or her leader, in fact any one of the admins would be a blessing at that point. The three grunts back in her own personal bunker could very well be the last of Team Magma and she would never know it. This was a thought she ignored, though, and instead her dull eyes flickered with interest, landing on the ugly corpse of what used to be a Trapinch. "What is that?" Blaze asked in a half horrified whisper.
The body seemed to be absolutely smashed flat, not a good sign. "We don't want to stick around and run into whatever did that, lest it turn on us," Spirit growled, echoing Courtney's thoughts.
Flame trembled in her arms as the human added, "Agreed."

They continued on there, but all too soon she began to hear ominous, repetitive sounds. Suddenly alert, Courtney flicked the music on pause as her eyes snapped up. It took a few seconds to distinguish from the rest of the sand, but it appeared to be... No way. Leaving the two fire types behind and ignoring their cries of protest, the human ran forward, taking Flame with her, until the massive, round body of the legendary Registeel towered above her. A massive grin split her face. This she could work with. "Hellllllo there! You come here often?" she giggled.

Dhakwan Abdul-Ba'ith al-Rashid ibn Zafar Qureshi looked over the sands. There was little of his face left exposed between the sand-colored head covering, the large protective eye wear and the blood red scarf that stopped him from breathing in the sand. The dark colored suit, itself made from countless fine layers, absorbed the sweat from his skin and held it there to keep him cool against the angry eye of the burning sun that stole life from all it touched. While violent in its heat and glare it was the defiant anger of a retiring tyrant, showing all his wrath as a reminder to fear him while he was gone. Soon that wrathful tyrant was fall and the blessed mother moon would turn the golden sands to silver with her caring light. Until that moment he would stay on his guard. All but the study-bodied Baltoy would rest during the heat of the afternoon, burrowed under the sands to embrace the cool of the darkness. The Cacnea clustered around the few plants that took root here, camouflaging themselves among the cacti to drink in the sunlight and convert it to the strength to move after dark. Soon the burning eye of the sun would move from the sands and the night would come. This desert was not the desert of his forefathers. Here he did not know the rock sign, the sand paths, the night songs but he knew enough to know that his ignorance would spell death if it were not for the ancient wisdom of the Scarecrow Pokemon now rendered a statue by the bright eye of the sun.
"One night more, my brother, then we will see if our struggles we in vain." The human's words filter through the universal translator attached to the front of his precious water-carrying pack. He twists the Skarmory feather knife and slices free the last of the Sandshrew's scaly yellow skin, spilling the blood reverentially at the feet of the Cacturne. The dark patch lingers a brief moment on the sands before being drawn away by the grass type's roots, leaving a faint reddish smear on the sand which is soon blown away by the endless winds. Dhakwan pulls down his red scarf to bite into the meat, eating the flesh of the mouse Pokemon in rough great chunks that he tears off with his teeth before the sand can blow into his mouth. His shelter, formed of a sheet of canvas angled over one of the large stones beside the cavern, affords him a patch of shadow to shelter in while he waits for night to fall and the sun to rise. He buries the Sandshrew's bones and so the smell doesn't attract predators and says a prayer commending the soul of the fellow desert dweller to the gods of the sand for its sacrifice. He wipes the blood from his mouth with the grey accelegor membrane. The thin layers of shed skin quickly absorb the fluid into the same pockets as his sweat and urine.
"This is truly Shai Hulud's land." He says in a reverent awe as he recovers his mouth with the red cloth. The eternal sandstorm is like that of the desert of hungry ghosts, where those who had lived corrupted lives were forced to walk in endless sands, naked, until they were stripped down to their bones and the bones themselves ground up to add to the sands. This place was not the bright, scouring hell of that place but Dhakwan feels he is standing on the edge of it, as if this place where a border between the worlds where he stood as if on the edge of a cliff.
Truly this was a proving ground as such his ancestors faced.
The desert guide tightens his hand on the sword at his back, pulling aside the cloth covers for a moment to marvel at the gleam of the ruby set in its golden pommel. He would not be the one to dishonour his ancestors if Shai Hulud swallowed him whole.
With an elegant hum of wings the Desert Spirit appears before him, the children of Shai Hulud playing around her wings and veiling her slender form with the sands.
"Travellers approach." The Flygon says in a voice like a whisper, the translator turning the melodic hum of her wings into human words.
"Pokemon?" He asks.
The Mystic Pokemon shakes her head.
Dhakwan stands, cleaning off the red metal blade with sand before returning it to the sheath on his hip. Not Pokemon, then spirit or human and both equally poor omens. What poor souls had ended up in this desert? Were they kin of his or enemies?
"I go." He tells Syria and with an elegant flicker of her wings she takes a perch on top of the stone where her red-covered eyes can see his path. The prone shape of the Cacturne is guarded beneath her wings.
"I watch." She breathes.
Dhakwan's booted feet crunch on the sand as he walks far enough to see the shapes of those approaching but too far away to be attacked. His face unreadable beneath the layers of cloth he bends down and picks up a handful of the loose sand, letting it slowly trickle through semi-splayed fingers as he waits for a response.

((Ooc: It's up to you if he's spotted Courtney or if anyone else wants to jump in here
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'Let's take a shortcut through the desert,' he said. 'It'll be easy,' he said.

What an intelligent kid he was. To think that going through a route that was prone to violent sandstorms on a near daily basis and that was, no doubt, crawling with Ground-type infected hiding below the sand was ever a good idea. Brendan was clearly in need of a few new brain cells. He'd discovered several times that the shortest route was not necessarily the easiest, and yet never seemed to learn his lesson.

His problem was, he figured, that he was letting his stomach do the thinking for him; they'd ran out of food the previous day, and his flat belly was beginning to rumble and ache. He had reckoned that Mauville City was the best bet for supplies due to its size and sheer abundance of shops and stalls. He wouldn't have been surprised to get there and find it deserted though; everyone seemed to get there before him these days.

And now they were lost in a blizzard of sand in the middle of nowhere. Brilliant.

Zuzu plodded along beside him, the Swampert's head dipped low against the raging sandstorm. Out of all of Brendan's Pokemon, he was the only one who could effectively manage the storm, but even he seemed to be struggling. His eyes were narrowed to slits as he ambled along, the razor sharp particles of earth bouncing off his hard skin. Brendan wished he had a spare pair of Go-Goggles specifically for his partner; even if he was hardy enough for the sand not to cut him, it was still a problem for the eyes.

By some miracle, his own goggles had managed to fit over his glasses. At least one thing today had gone the way he'd wanted it to. He had to be careful not to breathe in too deeply or else he choked on a lungful of it. His clothes were filthy, his skin covered in brown dust. They needed to get out of there.

"Almost there, bud," he said to Zuzu, giving his companion a pat on the head. Where 'there' was, exactly, Brendan did not know. All he knew was that the desert had two entrances: one to the north-west and the other to the west. Seeing as he was barely able to see three feet in front of his own face, Brendan wondered if they'd even find it at all today. Maybe their best bet was to find somewhere to shelter from the storm until it passed. Brendan remembered that this route had a few 'secret spots' back in the day; maybe they were still there?

Zuzu suddenly stopped dead at his side, staring at something in the distance. "Swaaamp..."
"What is it, pal?" Brendan asked, his hand reaching behind him for the handle of the baseball bat sticking out of his backpack. "Infected?"

Zuzu shook his large head, but didn't move. Curious, Brendan squinted and moved forward cautiously, his Swampert following close behind. Clearly it wasn't something dangerous or else Zuzu would've sounded the alarm, and his eyesight was better than Brendan's in these conditions. The boy was finding it hard to believe that there was anything but walking corpses and dead bodies out there, but he trusted his Pokemon's judgement. The question was: what the heck was it?

A tall shape emerged from the flurry of sand-- wait, two; something was perched on a rock just off to the side-- three. Three shapes that, according to Zuzu, weren't infected. Brendan's heart began to pound in his chest; had he finally found someone? Sure, the chances of it being any of his friends were pitifully low in a region as big as this, but anything that wasn't trying to eat him for lunch was a good sign.

But just because it was breathing didn't mean it was friendly. Brendan's hand remained on his bat as he crept closer, the tallest of the shapes slowly coming clearer into focus. By the time he figured out what it was, Brendan's heart was going absolutely wild. "Zu, have I finally lost my mind, or is that a guy?" Was he having another one of those dreams where the world was actually normal again? "Like, a human guy?"

Zuzu nodded and looked up at the shape on the rock; a Flygon, by the looks of it. It was high on the alert, watching them from beneath the red orbs covering its eyes. The third presence -- a Cacturne? -- sheltered underneath its wings. They'd clearly already seen them.

Brendan raised both hands into the air as he approached to show that he meant no harm. He couldn't believe it; he had walked in circles around this region for ... he didn't even know; he'd lost count of the years, all for a trace of anything alive. And now for three of them to appear at once was almost too good to be true.

"Hello?" he called, coughing as a mouthful of sand clung to the back of his throat. "H-Hey! We're all right - we're not here to cause trouble!" He glanced at Zuzu, who was still firmly watching the Flygon on the rock. "My name is Brendan, and this is my buddy, Zuzu. Who are you guys?"

Black had never liked deserts. The one at home had been annoying at best, but the one that he found himself stuck in presently was another matter entirely. He found himself constantly brushing away sand that was collecting in the small pockets of his police uniform, and he'd been forced to holster and hide all his weapons to prevent the sand from destroying them. The sandstorm, meanwhile, raged with deafening power around him, disorienting himself and his current mount, his sawsbuck. Though he would have preferred Agro, her unfortunate typing wouldn't have settled well with any surprise attacks from whatever might be dwelling below. Briar was larger, in any case, which allowed Black to have his Galvantula out as well, his many eyes able to keep track of their surroundings much easier than Black himself.

Tarty's furry legs wrapped closer around Black's middle, the spider anxious from the whirling winds. "Blair, are we there yet?" came the muted voice from behind. Black spared a glance backward to see the little spider's eyes staring hopefully up at his trainer, and the former cop couldn't help a small chuckle. But Briar, the ever salty buck, snorted in reply.

"Where do you think we're even going?" he demanded harshly, whipping his head back to look at the spider; Black barely managed to dodge the antlers. "All we're doing is wandering aimlessly, looking for those spineless cowards. But they're not in a set location, dumbass. So we can never be there be cause there is no 'there'.". Black felt the many legs grabbing him tighten their hold as Tarty huffed behind him, raising himself to look over Black's shoulder down at the pissy buck.

"I wasn't asking you, was I?" the spider angrily chirped, and Black felt the need to calm the waters. He placed a hand on both pokemon, sighing slightly. "The both of you need to stop. Bickering never helps. And for everyone's reference, we're trying to find the exit out of this damn sandstorm, especially before it gets dark." He frowned as he glanced down at his compass, unsure which way to head. He could see mountains in the distance, but who knew whether or not that was a dead end? His eyes squinted against the sand, unsure. They were running low on supplies. It wasn't like he could just pick a direction and go--

"Hello?" Black stiffened and Briar whirled around, ears flicking back and forth. That call sounded human. "H-Hey! We're all right - we're not here to cause trouble!" One of Tarty's legs pointed in a direction and Black urged Briar forward, his long legs striding easily along the sturdier parts of the sand. It was soon that he saw something blue and white, but the voice sounded again, this time further away.  "My nam.....dan, an... bud... Who are you...s?"

"Where the hell are you guiding me, you stupid bug?" Briar snapped, halting as soon as the voice had sounded again. "The voice is the other way! I thought you could see in this damned storm!"

"I do see something, you dumb deer!" Tarty squeaked back, to which Black lightly smacked the spider back, still urging Briar forward. "I said stop. There is someone there, even if it's not the voice's owner. Let's go see." He gently urged Briar on again, trotting until he was beside the stranger. He looked down, spying the other trying to decipher a map that looked entirely useless.

"Excuse me," he began as quietly as he could but still be kept audible over the roar of the storm, "I don't suppose that map's any use?" "I could eat it. Might be of some use then," Briar muttered under his breath, to which Black lightly smacked the back of the buck's neck. Black offered a white gloved hand to the stranger, hoping his police uniform didn't scare him away. "Inspector Black, at your service."

There was a reason he'd avoided Unova's desert as a child, and now this godforsaken place is reminding him full force why he did.  A soft sound of disgust escapes Emmet as his foot sinks into sand up past his boot.

"Em, I really don't like it here!"  The conductor glances down at the Galvantula skittering around his feet, expertly stepping around the spider as he picks his way through the sand pit to find some (slightly) more stable ground.  

"I know, but we'll find a way out.  You just need to be patient."

"I don't wanna be patient; I wanna be out."  

The Haxorus, walking alongside Emmet on his right, glares at the spider.  Sensing trouble, the Braviary decides to have his say before Moondragon can start another fight.  "We still have that map we found; maybe it'll help?"

"Maybe we should give it another look," the silver haired man mutters as he spots a fairly flat rock and lets his bag slide off his shouder.  Turning around, he sits on the rock, pausing a moment to try to shake the sand from his hair before opening the bag and drawing out a large, rolled up, weathered paper.  Stupid fucking sandstorm.  At least the paper's material is strong enough to hold it up in the wind, which has calmed down from just a few minutes ago.

Like the rainstorms from back home, he muses.  One second it's pouring, the next drizzling.  Apaprently wind follows this ridiculous pattern, too.

"I think I know where we are!"  A fluffy leg taps the edge of a hole in the map, drawing his attention back to the task at hand, and Emmet sighs.

"Peter, that's just a hole."

"But I thought dots marked on the map where you are?"

"At malls and public buildings, yeah.  That's a hole.  On a salvaged map."  From a dead person.  He shudders slightly.  

"I think this says "Witatite."  Maybe."  A strong, body presses itself against his back as his Haxorus leans over him to squint at a smudged word on the battered paper.

"Winstrate?  I think?"

"That looks like "run-something."  The Braviary jabs a wing at the paper.

"Ruins.  That says "ruins."  With a question mark, so even the maker of this map didn't know what he was doing."  He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"That's clearly the way out."  A claw circled the upper right of the map.  "The question is "Were are we?"

"Hell if I know; all I see is sand."

"I love the sand!"  Peter chirps.  "But not the desert.  Or the heat.  Eugh."

"Well, if we're still stuck here by nightfall, you won't have to worry about that."  Moondragon's voice is clipped.  "The temperature drops dramatically in deserts at night."

"Oooooooo really!?  That'll be so much nicer!  Would it snow, if it was wetter out?  I miss the snow!  Wanna build a snowman-- think we can make a sandman?  I wanna make a sandman!"

"Someday I swear to god I will find your off switch."
"Peter shut up; we need to be helping Emmet with the map."

"You guys can't even read!" Emmet cries out, shooting a look at the three arguing Pokemon.

"Excuse me."

All three freeze.  Eyes dart around at one another in terror.

The sandstorm obscured anything's scent and they weren't listening or paying attention, oh no.

"I don't suppose that map's any use?"

"Nope."  Peter smiles up at the speaker, Emmet feeling his stomach drop.  He can't see this person; the map obstructs his view.  Oh gods.  It could be anything.  And his shotgun is not something he can reach for subtly at this point; the other person is too close.

"I could eat it. Might be of some use then." A new voice now, and they sound grumpy.  There's a soft noise that reminds Emmet of when he lightly smacks Peter for being rude or irritating to others.  "Inspector Black, at your service."

... Inspector?  Slowly, Emmet lowers the map, silver eyes widening in shock.

That face; he remembers that face.  Now the voice falls into place, too.

"... Blair?  Blair Black?"

The Legend pauses, all movement ceasing; there was something...not right, a feeling he could not entirely place. Nothing in this desert could hope to overpower him, but there was still something that required his attention, even if only for a moment. It was almost as if a creature he could not yet see had dared to try approaching him half-cocked-"Hellllllo there! You come here often?" The voice was grating as it's language quickly translated to his own, and was accompanied by....giggling, of sll things; Registeel looked down to see nothing other than a human. A tiny female human holding some sort of Pokemon. He stares, half-tempted to just step on the thing and be done with it; there were other priorities he has to handle, and this human was in the way. Her kind had been the one to seal him and his siblings away; she should already know he had not been here in a long time. Was that not basic human knowledge? Humans must still be as full of pointless questions as ever. If the girl started asking him even more questions, he was done.

"...No." The Legend stares for a few more seconds, then turns away, taking another few lumbering steps towards the Ruins. The human was not worth his time nor energy; she should count herself lucky that she hadn't been stepped on. If he ignored her, then it was likely she'd run off and go irritate some other Pokemon instead, or get herself killed. That wasn't his problem. "Damned humans," Registeel mutters; they had once covered the lands, but in his recent travels, he had not seen even one until now. They must have done something truly foolish to bring about such destruction. It was almost pitiful how fragile humans were-one step out of balance, one upheaval of a status quo, and they crumbled. Though he was reluctant to admit it, the fact that a tiny girl, of all things, had survived was...admirable. Barely admirable. It was almost not even worth acknowledging. There, he was done with humans, and it was time to return to the actual point of coming to this desert-finding Regirock. One distraction was more than enough.

In her arms, the Quilava immediately began squirming. His panic was absolutely lost on his trainer though, as the girl continued keeping a wide, albeit creepy, grin on her face. I don't know your name, but I recognise you, and you're hella not a normal species! Courtney's greeting was least not met with hostility, the massive creature turning, slowly, to regard her. Seven red dots stared down at her, was that it's face? HOW COOL. After a few moments of staring-- was it studying her?-- the Pokemon slowly muttered, "...No."
Courtney immediately pouted, her bottom lip jutting out as violet eyes narrowed. By that point, though, Flame finally squeaked out, "L- let me go!!" Courtney refused him silently, prompting the Quilava to instead ask, "What even is that?!"
"Registeel." Courtney turned to her Ninetales, whom had walked to her side. Who? Before she could ask out loud, the silver vulpine bowed her head slightly to the Registeel. "A pure steel type legend native to Hoenn-- one of the three golems, the others being Regice and Regirock."

"Whoa, really?!" Courtney's scowl vanished, leaving her jaw dropped as her arms also gave up their grip and Flame smacked into the sand below her with a squeak of protest.
"Damned humans," the Registeel mutters, already turning away, but she was not going to allow that.
"Hey! Wait up cutie, is that any way to treat a girl?" Courtney ran forward despite the protests of Flame, Blaze, and Spirit alike, only stopping at the steel type's side. He... moved really slowly. "Shouldn't you be able to walk faster than that, especially in the sand? It doesn't hurt you, right?" Pulling up her arms behind her back, the Magma Admin clasped her hands together and she gave a sideways look to the legend, up and down. "Whatcha up to? As a big, strong Legend, I bet you have plenty of hella important things to do." Courtney blinked, her expression falling for a second before immediately picking up with a peppy grin, to which she chirped quickly, "Whatever it is, I wanna help ya!"

Nothing wrong with hanging around a powerful, nonaggressive Pokemon. Courtney flashed a smirk over her shoulder at her Ninetales; Spirit knew her trainer well enough to understand she had already devised a plan.
Catch the Registeel.

The Desert Guide watches close. Raised hands; not the desert sign but a sign of peace. The hand that held sand held no weapon and the hand that held only air...also held no weapon. They were not here for conflict with him. Could they be trusted, that was another matter.
Dhakwan
"I go." He tells the spirit of the desert. With a bob of her slender neck she takes wing with the melodious chime of diamond-shaped wings. Soon she is away, the sands curling around her body to keep her safe. She was a precious Pokemon, not only for the esteemed title she held and the strength of her limbs but for her ability to carry things through the air. Her loss would be great.
Once he is sure she is safe to resume her patrol Dhakwan takes way towards the unexpected visitor. The sand here is tight packed and sheltered by the stones, good solid ground that would form a hard layer of stone close enough to the surface for rain water to gather there in the rains. It's good sand, without perilous pits of deeper wastes that could swallow an onix whole if the sands started to shift.
Dhakwan keeps his blades by his side.
The hand that held sand held no weapon but he would not be foolish. He selects a Pokeball from his waist, tossing it in front of him. The sands part around the bright red hide.
"Keep safe." He instructs the Krookodile and with a few lashes of its long tail the Ground/Dark Type burrows into the sand.
The wind is whipping up around them, pressing against the layers of his accelegor membrane still-suit. Between his mask and his goggles there was a barely a hint of exposed skin. Walking closer he raised his goggles and pulled down his scarf enough for his words to be clear over the sands.
"Hello?" The boy coughs, choking on the dry sands as he breathes in too deeply.
Dhakwan examines him with a careful eye. His clothing is not well suited for desert travel.
"May the light of the blessed mother moon shine upon our meeting." He says in greeting, the wind whipping at his face.
"H-Hey! We're all right - we're not here to cause trouble!" The boy calls out. "My name is Brendan, and this is my buddy, Zuzu. Who are you guys?"
"I am Dhakwan Abdul-Ba'ith al-Rashid ibn Zafar Qureshi but just Dhakwan will do fine." The Desert Guide halts, a few feet away from the boy but not close enough for it to appear as hostilities.
He pauses and bows to the Swampert, inclining his head respectfully to the bearer of sacred water.
"To you, child of the rains, I bear greetings and hope you feel fit to render aid. Bless the maker and his water, bless the coming and going of him, may his passing cleanse the world."" He says softly in the habitual prayer before turning back to the other human.
"You must have come a long way in that uniform." He says conversationally. "My camp here is shelter from the wind. I invite you to share in it, Brendan and Zuzu of the soft-whispering rains."

The man seemed to hesitate to approach them at first. Both Brendan and Zuzu tensed as the dragon on the rock outstretched its wings and took off, soon disappearing into the blizzard of dust. Brendan bit his lip, looking around; had he ordered the Flygon to attack? A Pokemon like that was practically designed to hide in the desert; it could come at them from any direction.

"Err, hey, as I said: we're good guys," he insisted, placing a hand on Zuzu's head to try and calm his growling Pokemon. This man and his Pokemon were clearly in their element here, and they would undoubtedly have the upper hand if they decided to attack. Zuzu would have the advantage against the Ground-types, sure, but they were strangers in this land. This guy, whoever he was, looked as though he was born for the very sands they walked on.

But the stranger soon approached, standing a respectable distance away from Brendan and tugging down his scarf a notch. "I am Dhakwan Abdul-Ba'ith al-Rashid ibn Zafar Qureshi--"
...Oh crap.
"--but just Dhakwan will do fine.
Phew. Well, at least he didn't have the world's longest name to remember. Brendan knew that his poor, young brain wouldn't be able to handle so many weird words at once; he'd have an aneurysm or something.

"Dhakwan." He enunciated the word slowly, taking note of its pronunciation. He nodded. "All right then, cool."

Dwakwan then turned his attention to Zuzu. The Swampert was standing stiffly at Brendan's side, barely moving a muscle as he looked back at the human. "To you, child of the rains, I bear greetings and hope you feel fit to render aid. Bless the maker and his water, bless the coming and going of him, may his passing cleanse the world." Zuzu's slightly bemused face mirrored Brendan's thoughts. What the hell was he on about? Surely 'hello' would've done it just fine.

"You must have come a long way in that uniform," Dhakwan said, turning back to him. "My camp here is shelter from the wind. I invite you to share in it, Brendan and Zuzu of the soft-whispering rains." That was clear enough at least: he was inviting them to shelter in his camp.

Brendan nodded, giving Zuzu a light push to get him moving and following close behind. "That'd be swell! Thanks, mister." He could almost hear his mother's voice shrieking at him, warning him of the possible consequences of walking off with a stranger. But he wasn't eleven years old anymore, and the world now had a new set of rules. Besides, if Dhakwan did decide to turn nasty, at least he had his bat.

Insisting to himself that he wouldn't have to beat this man to a pulp anytime soon, Brendan swallowed his growing anxieties and followed. The Cacturne from before still stood by the rock, and Brendan gave it a small wave as he passed it.

"So err ... you been living here for long?" he asked, simply trying to fit a conversation in somewhere. He hated awkward silences. "You seem pretty comfortable out here."

"... Blair?  Blair Black?"

Black blinked against the sand-ridden gales, caught in sheer confusion. There was a moment of silence between the two men as Black tried to remember who was standing in front of him; -or at least as much silence that can exist while surrounded by a howling sandstorm- how did he know his first name? Tarty's legs clamped tighter against his trainer's shoulders and waist as Black shifted to dismount. Briar felt the shift in weight and snorted, untrusting of the situation. "You know this guy, Blair?" Briar asked lowly, his gruff voice barely audible over the winds.

Black tipped his hat a bit to get a better look at the man with the map, mostly only getting terrified eyes over the paper. He had a Galvantula out as well, plus a Haxorus and Braviary. So, he was certainly a Unova native, to be sure. But as he stared at the face through the sand, his memory finally brought back a memory. That's why he didn't recognize him-- Black had only seen him with his face mostly covered, and with a twin. But the jacket around his waist, the voice-- Black's face erupted into a smile and even gave a hearty laugh.

"Emmet-- the Subway Boss? I can't believe-- of all the places!" He reached a hand back to Briar, who he was sure was about to gore the stranger, and patted him, letting the stag know to calm down. He held out the gloved hand again, this time less professionally, to Emmet. "It's been... years since I've seen anyone from Unova. I'm not even really sure which region I'm in. But we're going to get our skins sanded off if we stay out here much longer-- do you know where we can get shelter? Maybe the map will be more useful when there's not a fistful of the stuff in our eyes."

The Inspector dismounts his deer, who already seems to hate them.  "You know this guy, Blair?"

"Do we?" the spider stage whispers at Emmet, who gives him a nudge with the point of his boot.  Fear churns his stomach-- if the young man doesn't remember him, his name will mean little.  Should he give it to him anyway?  Reach for his rifle?  Give his pokemon an attack command?  What?  I've wanted to meet someone I recognize for so long I didn't fucking think of what I'd do if I actually did!  Much less if they were someone I knew from REALLY long ago!

But it looks like the officer puts the pieces together himself.  "Emmet-- the Subway Boss? I can't believe-- of all the places!"  One hand pats the Sawsbuck, a signal to relax, while the other reaches for Emmet, whose relieved smile spreads wide across his face as he shakes Black's hand.

"It's been... years since I've seen anyone from Unova. I'm not even really sure which region I'm in. But we're going to get our skins sanded off if we stay out here much longer-- do you know where we can get shelter? Maybe the map will be more useful when there's not a fistful of the stuff in our eyes."

"It's great to see you too, kid."  The joy fades as he remembers, oh yeah, Black is absolutely right and finding shelter would be preferable to this.  "I think this is Hoenn.  But that's all I know; I haven't seen shelter around here.  He moves to put the map back into the bag.  "I was hoping that if we couldn't find our way to the exit immediately, the map might at least mark down where we might find a shelter.  But it's so worn and faded that I don't think it'll help much.  Plus, the mapmaker wasn't a professional, I don't think.  Several landmarks are marked with question marks, like he's not sure if that's what or where it is."

"It's basically useless, but it's the closest thing we have to a map,"  Moondragon mumbles.

"He's right though; if we're in a sheltered spot, poring over it will be so much easier.  We might spot something we've missed."

"Real fast; that's Peter, Moondragon, and Captain," Emmet gestures to each Pokemon as he introduces them, slinging his bag back over his shoulder.  "My Klinklang, Multiply, is still in his ball because of all this sand; it'd clog up his gears.  That said; have you guys seen anything that might be of help?  I'm guessing "no" but hey, worth a shot."

"Hey! Wait up cutie, is that any way to treat a girl?" "Cutie?" Is that some sort of insult humans used? Registeel has already made it clear he has no desire for company, yet this girl insists on following him around like a lost, and increasingly annoying, child. That she had not tried literally attaching herself to him yet was a surprise in itself. "Shouldn't you be able to walk faster than that, especially in the sand?" Registeel groans as the questions start up once again; this has to be some sort of divine punishment. There was nothing else that could describe being delivered a persistent human whose sole purpose was to irritate him. By Regigigas, even Regirock had never stepped on so many nerves before. "It doesn't hurt you, right?" Registeel stops, turning to look at the endlessly-curious human without saying a word. She was not yet done interrogating him; he could figure that out just by the look on her face. As little as he understood humans, Registeel knew when they were going to start bothering him.

"Whatcha up to? As a big, strong Legend, I bet you have plenty of hella important things to do."
"We've finally reached an understanding. Now, if you could just leave..." His words become useless immediately as the girl's expression shifted into one of "excitement." It did not matter whether Registeel was subtle or straightforward: she simply could not understand that he does not want her around. Stepping on this human was becoming more appealing by the second, but he refrains from doing so. "Whatever it is, I wanna help ya!" ...Help? Help? No human would want to help him or any of his siblings; they were the reason he even has to be here in the first place. If this was an attempt to trick him, it was a poor one. That look she gave her Pokemon...Humans. So arrogant. If she was so keen on knowing everything, fine. Registeel was not going to let this drag out any longer.

"I am looking for my brother. The one your kind sealed away," Registeel says impatiently, looking at the Ruins yet again. "Right now, you're keeping me from that. So, tell me, human...what use could you possibly be to me?"

Unfortunately as much as she had hoped for an easy nab-and-run, Courtney was quickly learning the Registeel did not play games. He was being curt, short with his responses, and ignoring any advances she had tried to gain his trust. Even a conversation will be a pain in the ass. Flame did not stop his wiggling in her arms, The Quilava squeaking in an increasingly unhappy fashion. Courtney blinked, looking down at him before opening her arms without warning. It was not meant as a cruel act, her actions were rarely ever malicious towards her own Pokemon, and they in turn understood that. Flame hit the sand like a cat, all four paws absorbing the impact as the sand was left with tiny footprints before he shot off towards the Ninetales and Blaziken behind them. His own paw steps were almost immediately washed away, the impacts short and weak, while Registeel's left noticable craters that could be followed for dozens of feet behind him, leaving a trail. Courtney noted all of that with a quick sweep of her head, violet eyes running over the ground before she smiled back up at the golem. Pure steel type, hm. I wonder if I should corner it. Spirit and Blaze should be able to take care of it, with Nelly as backup just in case. Unaware of the blaring flaws in her plans, Courtney smiled, beaming up into the large, six eyed face as he stared at her.

"I am looking for my brother," Registeel finally told her, making the girl's interest peak further. Two big strong legends? Sign me riiiight up. Feigning innocence, though, she tilted her head to one side, making a small O with her mouth. "The one your kind sealed away." The accusation was clear in his words, or would it be better to say he was just pissed? Courtney glanced over her shoulder, meeting Spirit's eyes; the vulpine understood the message and was already lengthening her stride to catch up to her trainer's side even as Registeel continued. Information. "Right now, you're keeping me from that. So, tell me, human...what use could you possibly be to me?" Courtney tilted her head to the other side, considering. Looked like the best way to gain Registeel's trust was to be useful. How did I get the job with Maxie? Oh man, job interviews were a pain in the ass.
"You said he was 'sealed away', yes? I can help you get him out," she pointed out, waving one hand to her shiny Ninetales and then behind her where the Blaziken held Flame in his arms, the noodle cat burying his face in the yellow feathers. "'Sides, what if there is some scary dungeon monster where ever your bro' is? Some backup would not hurt, though I am sure a strong guy like you can handle yourself, why bother with the inconveniences?" She continued beaming, blinking from behind her go-go goggles. There it was, would he bite? Or was she going to have to go about the hard way? Her fingers itched to grab an ultra ball from her bag.

Turning away, though, she met the clear eyes of her partner. "Considering the state of the environment, it would only make sense that we are looking for Regirock," she explained to her trainer, whom continued to grin like a cat, nodding to Spirit's intel. "If memory serves correct, Regirock was kept locked in the depths of the Desert Ruins, though the nature of the lock, or ancient 'code' of sorts, is only known to few anymore. Er- before the pandemic, anyway." The awkward end of the Ninetale's explanation did not deter Courtney, the girl raising an eyebrow expectantly at Registeel.
"I can help," she insisted.

"So err ... you been living here for long?" The desert guide blinks slowly, like a noctowl. "You seem pretty comfortable out here."
Dhakwan laughs, a harsh sand-dry sound.
"No, not from here. Another desert in a different region but sand is always sand and the sun is always hot yes?" He smiles, showing teeth a bright white against his tanned skin, before pulling up his scarf and lowering his goggles so there is barely a square inch of exposed skin on his face. The dark tinted lenses make his eyes look like some sort of desert insect, combined with the many wrapped layers of accelegor membrane around his skin body and the stick thinness of his lean muscled body he doesn't appear a very reassuring figure. He walks with a curious light tread that allows him to move against the wind and the shifting sand underfoot without slipping over.
His camp is a small nook, a sheet of fabric treated to withstand the constant pressure of the sands has been set up in a crude tent with one end attached to the large stone weathered by the wind and the other secured with long metal pegs into the sands. The rock itself is more worn on one side than the other from where the desert wind has sandblasted the stone smooth. Sheltered from the wind by this lump of rock the rough tent is draped down over the surroundings sand and Dhakwan's few possessions are undisturbed by the wind. As well as the statue-like Cacturne appearing to stand guard over the shelter's entrance there is Dhakwan's water back, sleeping roll and a few small metal pots and a gas burner. A small coarse rug is laid over the sands to sit on and a bed roll has already been laid out for the night.
The pack itself is placed in a position that makes it appear the Cacturne is guarding it, the still heavy bag containing the guide's water supply.
"Home sweet home."
Dhakwan sits on the small mat to observe his guest. Company was not something he was expecting at this point; especially not someone so young. He had go-goggles, the default eye protection of their region, but he was improperly attired for anything more than a passing stay. The group he had landed with, the military squad tasked with establishing some form of human settlement in the desert, had been far better equipped, though it had not helped them deal with the undead Flygon that had attacked their helicopter. No, this child could not have been sent to settle the desert but neither did he look like he had been left behind. The water type at his side (Bless the maker and his water, bless the coming and going of him, may his passing cleanse the world.) was one he recognizes from his mother's book of stories, back when he though the thing called ice was as much a thing of spirit fantasy as djinn or ghoula. This Zuzu of the whispering rains was not the kind of companion who would stand beside one inexperienced.
"Why are you here?" He asks bluntly, pulling down his scarf again and raising his goggles now they were out of the wind. "This is tough land even for pokemon. Are you lost?"

"No, not from here. Another desert in a different region but sand is always sand and the sun is always hot yes?"

"Err, yeah. I guess." Brendan shrugged a shoulder as he followed Dhakwan into a very quaint yet efficient shelter constructed from a large sheet of fabric and kept out of the wind by the boulder it was built next to. Metal posts sticking out of the ground kept the structure strong and secure. As soon as Brendan entered he felt instant relief from the harsh winds and cutting shards of sand. With a scoff he looked down at his filthy skin and clothes. "Man! I really need a bath!"

"Swaaampert," Zuzu grinned, giving his large body a good shake to dust himself off. His Pokemon seemed calmer than he had a few minutes ago, but not comfortable enough to settle himself down just yet, it seemed. He stayed all four of his feet, casting the occasional wary glance at the Cacturne standing guard like a statue at the entrance.

"Why are you here?" Dhakwan asked rather bluntly, now sitting on one of the mats. Brendan stood awkwardly off to one side, not quite sure if he had the right to make himself comfortable just yet. He didn't want to make Dhakwan feel that he was intruding in any way. "This is tough land even for pokemon. Are you lost?"

"Lost? Oh, no! We've been here before. In fact, we've been all over this region, haven't we bud?" Brendan had perched himself on a small rock near to the boulder. He patted Zuzu's head as the Swampert coiled himself around the boy protectively. "Hoo boy, we got some stories we could tell you, buuut I'll bet they'll just bore you." Brendan knew that this was pure nonsense; who wouldn't want to hear about how he'd been the one to defeat Groudon and save Hoenn from certain doom? About how his father was a Gym Leader? About his countless victories in the Contest Halls across the region? He had a lot to brag about, but he knew it was polite to wait for Dhakwan to ask him to elaborate, so he managed to keep his mouth shut for the time being. He couldn't help but notice that Zuzu looked relieved, and grinned as he tickled his Pokemon behind one of his fins.

"We were coming down from Fallarbor towards Mauville for supplies," Brendan went on, kicking off both of his sneakers and stretching his toes. Sweet Jirachi, they'd done a lot of walking today. "I suggested we take a shortcut through here, but hey! That didn't really work out."

"So what about you?" he asked Dhakwan, now rubbing the underside of Zuzu's chin. The Swampert groaned happily, tilting his head. Brendan grinned; he looked like a big ol' brute, but he was really just a giant kitten. "You said you were from a desert in another region? I do know that there's one in Unova, so is that the one you mean?"

He decided that he might as well take off his Go-Goggles as well, seeing as he wasn't being battered by the sand anymore. He rested them on his lap, carefully readjusting his glasses over his copper eyes. "And what brings you to Hoenn?"

"It's great to see you too, kid." The gentle reply and the returned handshake was almost therapeutic; it had been a long time since Black came across another friendly face, especially one from his own home. "I think this is Hoenn.  But that's all I know; I haven't seen shelter around here.  Black blinks against the sand, almost unbelieving of Emmet's words. Hoenn... How in the world did we manage to do that?!

"I was hoping that if we couldn't find our way to the exit immediately, the map might at least mark down where we might find a shelter.  But it's so worn and faded that I don't think it'll help much.  Plus, the mapmaker wasn't a professional, I don't think.  Several landmarks are marked with question marks, like he's not sure if that's what or where it is." The comments dampened Black's joy; if they'd already poured over it...

"It's basically useless, but it's the closest thing we have to a map,"  Black nodded at the dragon's remark as Briar made his way closer, likely looking to shelter his face from the stinging sands with Black's form. The officer didn't mind, allowing the buck's grand head to dip and push his arm aside to make way for his sore face. Briar was probably tired of trying to listen over the sandstorm, anyhow.

But the Braviary seemed undaunted by his comrade's melancholy."He's right though; if we're in a sheltered spot, pouring over it will be so much easier.  We might spot something we've missed."

"Real fast; that's Peter, Moondragon, and Captain," Emmet gestures to each Pokemon as he introduces them, slinging his bag back over his shoulder.  "My Klinklang, Multiply, is still in his ball because of all this sand; it'd clog up his gears.  That said; have you guys seen anything that might be of help?  I'm guessing "no" but hey, worth a shot."

Black nodded to each of the other's pokemon in turn, committing their names to memory and in understanding of the concerns for the klinklang. "We heard a voice a while back," Briar offered, but didn't bother to raise his head to speak. "But the dumb moron clutching to Blair's back steered us away from it."

"I can't see voices, jerk," Tarty snipped from his perch on Black's shoulders. "I saw them."

"Regardless," Black intervened with a more commanding tone, slightly glaring at both quarrelling pokemon one at a time before turning back to Emmet. Of all the days for his pokemon to be at each other's throats... "There's gotta be something out here. A cliff face, a cave, even a trench. The one back home was filled with them." He looked around again, squinting hard against the raging sands. "That looks like a silhouette of a ridge, just that way," he directed, nodding in the direction of the barely visible landmark. "It looks closer than the mountains do. Maybe we should go that way." He looked Emmet over once more and frowned. "We'll get there faster if we ride. Do you have a fast pokemon that can carry you through this?" He motioned to his sawsbuck as an example. "I have a spare that can carry you if not."

Black allows his deer to bury his face in his side, the buck responding a few minutes later with a jab at the Galvantula clinging to his trainer.  "We heard a voice a while back, but the dumb moron clutching to Blair's back steered us away from it.""

Predictably, said spider is not pleased about it.  "I can't see voices, jerk.  I saw them."

"Regardless, there's gotta be something out here," Back interupts before a fight can start, giving the spider and the buck a stern look.  Emmet can't help but quirk a smile.  Ah yes.  He knew that feeling well.  His eyes move to exchange looks with his own three Pokemon as Peter avoids his eyes and stares into the distance.  Dumb little spider, still pretending to be innocent.  You know what this look is for, little troublemaker.

A Galvantula now; forever a young Joltik on the inside.

"A cliff face, a cave, even a trench. The one back home was filled with them."  He peers intently into the distance, Emmet squinting.  There is something odd over there... "That looks like a silhouette of a ridge, just that way."  Oh, well that explains it.  

"It looks closer than the mountains do. Maybe we should go that way." He looked Emmet over once more and frowned. "We'll get there faster if we ride. Do you have a fast pokemon that can carry you through this?  I have a spare that can carry you if not."

"Hi!"  Peter squeaks up at the spider, his butt wiggling a little like an excited dog.  "You're another spider!  It's been so long since I've seen another spider!  My name's Peter an-"

"Peter shh.  Later.  Shelter first."  He pulls out a pokeball in preparation to recall his Pokemon, addressing Black.  "No, sorry; I don't have a Pokemon I can ride.  I'd be grateful for the help of yours, if you don't mind."  Turning to Captain, he adds, "Cap, you should go back into the ball until we get to shelter."

 "Roger that.  See you later, then."  The bird dips his head at his trainer as Emmet recalls him, and tucks the ball back into his pocket.

"All right, whenever you're ready."  he wonders what other Pokemon the young man has.  Probably Unovan, but then again, given the state of the world, could be any species.  A rush of excitement claims him and he can't help but grin.  Never gets old, waiting to see what the other person has.

"You said he was 'sealed away', yes? I can help you get him out." The human gestures to her many pets, though Registeel cannot understand what they have to do with anything. "Help" was extremely vague, and his already nonexistent patience towards this girl is somehow wearing even thinner. Was this some sort of stall; was she claiming to be able to help free Regirock, but in reality has no idea how to do so? If so, it was a pointless tactic, and one the human wouldn't be able to get away with for long, though the purpose of such a plan eludes him. "'Sides, what if there is some scary dungeon monster where ever your bro' is?" Dear Regigigas, she was still talking...suddenly, Registeel regrets asking her that question. He should have guessed that any sort of attention given to her would backfire, and now she was worked up again in the usual human fashion. Crawling back to the tomb and sleeping for another millennia was becoming far too tempting.  "Some backup would not hurt, though I am sure a strong guy like you can handle yourself, why bother with the inconveniences?" He stares again; it was somewhat satisfying that she had admitted he does not need her help in a fight, but the rest was of far more importance. As irritating as it was to admit it, the human was right-he does not have the time to stand here and deal with every little problem that was thrown his way. If bringing the girl along was less of a hindrance to his goal, then...well, he could handle a human for however long it took to free Regirock. Maybe. He really didn't want to, but it was unfortunately turning into the "better" option.

"Considering the state of the environment, it only makes sense that we are looking for Regirock," Registeel overhears the words of the girl's Pokemon; at least that one has some sense and knowledge. If he was going to be forced to keep company around, he does not want all of them to be excitable pests. "If memory serves correct, Regirock was kept locked in the depths of the Desert Ruins, though the nature of the lock, or "ancient code of sorts, is only known to a few anymore. Er, before the pandemic anyway." Impressive. Maybe that information would give the human some much-needed insight on why Registeel was loathe to linger here when he was so close. It's unlikely anyone else in this desert knows how to work the lock, but still... It was best not to take chances, especially in a situation like this.
"I can help." The human was beyond persistent, and her endless arguments time-consuming. She wasn't going to stop unless it was by force, and with her companions, stepping on all of them was going to be a hassle. Registeel has no time for this. The human has proven her point, to his great annoyance; it was easier to just let her tag along. Maybe she would be of at least some use along the way, though to him it seems her only talents are talking and getting on his nerves.

"Fine. Fine. I'll allow you to join me, human." Registeel already regrets this choice. Oh, how he did not like dealing with humans-they were always proving to be a pain. "Just don't get in my way, and keep the questions to a minimum."

It seemed her persistence paid off, the trainer's eyes bright beneath the shade of her hoodie and the protection of the Go-Goggles. Registeel did not act enthused, but Courtney was catching on that he was not the most excitable of sentient metal things. "Fine." The Magma Admin pushes herself onto her toes, bouncing up once as success was achieved. "Fine. I'll allow you to join me, human." Her grin never faltered.
"My name's Courtney," she added in a chirp. "The silver fox is Spirit, the noodle is Flame, and Blaze is holding him." The Ninetales bowed her head in respect while Flame shot a coarse look at his trainer. "I am not a noodle..." the ferret muttered. The Blaziken patted his head, but Flame's look only grew more sour.

"Just don't get in my way, and keep the questions to a minimum," the Legend added with a warning implied from his tone. Spirit warily glanced between her trainer and the golem, but Courtney was undeterred.
"Okay! You're the boss. Lead the way!" Her catlike expression did not fail yet; the trainer was confident, too much so, but she was blind to her own flaws at that moment. Time to play nice and gain his trust. Turning away from the Registeel, she called to her Pokemon. "Blaze, Flame! You two gotta go for now." The bird nodded while the Quilava released a loud sigh of relief.
"Finally. Just don't get stepped on," he warned his trainer as she held up both of their Pokeballs. Opening the multicoloured capsules, both fire starters vanished in a flash.
"Naturally," she smirked. Pulling out another ball, a fourth member of her party was released into the sand. After the flash died down, a medium sized violet bird appeared, the Swellow blinking rapidly at the swirling dust. The duel type recoiled, covering his face with one wing. "Flier, I need you to scout from the air, see if you can spot what we're looking for. Actually-- Regi, what are we looking for exactly?" She turned, addressing the legend.

""Lost? Oh, no! We've been here before. In fact, we've been all over this region, haven't we bud?"
Now that was both surprising and fortuitous. He had someone who was a native of this area. So well travelled at so young and accompanied by an envoy of the blessed mother moon. Very interesting.
"Hoo boy, we got some stories we could tell you, buuut I'll bet they'll just bore you."
The Desert Guide laughs again, a harsh barking kind of sounds.
"What good is the afternoon but for telling stories? It is hot and the sands are stirred, when the eye of the sun is at it's lowest it is too hot for work."
Dhakwan finds a small flask among his spread out possessions and offers it to the boy.
"Mint tea." He explains. "Wet your throat. It refreshes the mind and body before a storytelling session. A tradition of my people."
"We were coming down from Fallarbor towards Mauville for supplies," The boy continues, tending to his companion. "I suggested we take a shortcut through here, but hey! That didn't really work out."
Dhakwan laughs again.
"Shai-hulud has punished you for your presumption." The god of the desert winds hated little more than those who did not acknowledge and fear his powers and there was no doubt in Dhakwan's mind he had stirred up the sands as punishment.
"So what about you?" The boy Brendan asks. "You said you were from a desert in another region? I do know that there's one in Unova, so is that the one you mean?"
The Desert Guide shakes his head.
"I come from the region of Orre. Much of that place is desert."
"And what brings you to Hoenn?"
"My people lived in isolation, living off the land in complete self sufficiency. The only thing we relied on others for was things we could not manufacture on our own. I was sent back there with a group of other humans to see if the area could be resettled as a new cradle for humanity. A Flygon took offence to the helicopter and I was the only one with one that could fly close at hand."
Dhakwan stares off into the distance.
"As to why I am here in this place I was bought here by Patagonia the many-eyed idol, the one you call a 'Claydol'. I am not sure why. Perhaps a great disaster was about to befall Orre. Perhaps a great disaster is about to take place here. I dare not ask questions of the ancient one for fear of an answer."
Dhakwan turns back towards his companion to see frail scholar's lenses perched in front of his eyes. His disdain for the commission that had sent him here grows. Not only had they exposed one so young to this disaster but he had not been given proper equipment as he had. It reeked of foul despair.
"Now I desire a story from you. How did you come by the company of such a glorious marid?" His voice lilts on the spirit word for Water Type but he gestures towards the Swampert with one hand to show who he is discussing.

Brendan took a sip of the tea he had been offered and smiled in surprise; it was actually rather nice. He felt it slide slowly down his throat like warm honey. He took another mouthful as Dhakwan began to tell him about where he used to live. Brendan liked the guy, but damn he sure did enjoy the sound of his own voice. His mind wandered off a couple of times, returning only to give Dhakwan a nod or small smile, but he did catch that he was from Orre and had been brought to Hoenn by a Claydol.

"Now I desire a story from you," Dhakwan then said, turning to him. Brendan shot to attention, almost spilling his tea. "How did you come by the company of such a glorious marid?" By 'marid' he guessed that he meant Zuzu. What was this guy's fascination with Water-type Pokemon? It wasn't like they were a rarity or anything.

"Well err ... me and Zu here have been buddies for years, isn't that right?" He paused to tickle his Swampert under his chin again. He moaned happily, clearly enjoying the attention. "I did have some Pokemon before him that my Dad gave me -- oh by the way he's a Gym Leader," he instinctively added in with the small hints of a smug grin. "But I got Zuzu here off the Professor when I saved him from a spot of bother. After that ... well, by then I was old enough to leave home and become a Trainer so that's what I did." He gazed off into the sands for a moment, the memory of saying goodbye to his mother so clear it almost felt like he'd done it yesterday.

"We had a ton of fun," he said, dipping his head in mourning of the days that had passed, but still smiling from the memories. "I'd do it all again any day."

Zuzu nuzzled his Trainer's arm, looking up at him imploringly. Brendan put on his best smile, knowing how much his Pokemon disliked seeing him sad. "But hey! We're soldiering on, aren't we bud? There isn't much left anymore but we still have each other, and that's all I care abou-- what's up, Zu?"

Zuzu had hauled himself to his feet and was looking out across the dunes, growling softly. Brendan also rose and stood next to his companion, squinting out into the dusty blizzard. He saw nothing out of the ordinary, but Zuzu's senses were more attuned than his; by the way he was behaving, he'd detected something.

"Is there something out there, pal...?"

Before Emmet had the chance to respond, his galvantula nearly ambushed Tarty, scaring the spider further up Black's back. "Hi!" Tarty made no reply, but Black was certain that by the increase in pressure from Tarty's many legs against him, the greeting wasn't well received. "You're another spider!  It's been so long since I've seen another spider!  My name's Peter an-"

"Peter shh.  Later.  Shelter first." Thankfully for Tarty's nerves, the other spider was recalled.  "No, sorry; I don't have a Pokemon I can ride.  I'd be grateful for the help of yours, if you don't mind." He retrieved his other pokemon as Black nodded and pulled out one of his own. "All right, whenever you're ready."

Agro appeared as Black tapped her ball gently; a proud, strong mare stood before the officer and regarded Emmet with some neutral familiarity. She nickered lightly as Black patted her side, gesturing to Emmet. "Agro, this is Emmet; he needs a lift. Emmet, this is Agro. She's a sweet girl and only bites occasionally," Black joked, handing Emmet the reins. "I'm just kidding-- she's very docile. Just try not to touch the saddlebags. She gets antsy." He patted Emmet's shoulder before going back to his Sawsbuck, who was keeping his eyes shut from the sand. Mounting Briar, he turned the buck toward the ridge and waited for Emmet to mount Agro before leading the way through the sands.

After some minutes of riding, Black came to a halt as he spotted figures on top of the ridge, holding out an arm to signal Agro to stop as well. She did, whinnying a little in annoyance with her strange rider as Black circled back to converse with Emmet. "There looks like people up there. You think they could be hostile?"

[[I got here first XD They're about fifty feet from the ridge, so with the sand, they're somewhat visible.]]

A magnificent Zebstrika materializes in front of him, Emmet's silver eyes going round with wonder.  Oh wow... I haven't ridden one of these since I was a boy...

Ah yes.  What a fantastic disaster that had been.  The memory brings a smile to his lips, only to be wiped away by a pang of loss.  Elesa... Rowan...  Casual friends or not, he still cared for her and her team.  Where are they now...?

He didn't have long to wonder.  "Agro, this is Emmet; he needs a lift. Emmet, this is Agro. She's a sweet girl and only bites occasionally."  Emmet accepts the reins from Black, the corners of his mouth turning up just slightly.  Nice to see the young man still had a good sense of humor. "I'm just kidding-- she's very docile. Just try not to touch the saddlebags. She gets antsy."

Having his shoulder patted made him stiffen, every nerve in his being screaming for a minute before settling.  It's just Black... just the kid...

It felt weird, being touched by a stranger like that, he reflected as he mounted the horse.   Most strangers nowadays were antagonistic or standoffish.   And he's younger than I am.  I should be reassuring HIM.

It doesn't take them long to get there, Emmet silently grateful for the Zebstrika's patience--truly, it's evident he has not ridden a steed of any kind in a long time.  He glances up to see Black circling around to speak with him, a thoughtful expression on the young officer's features.  "There looks like people up there. You think they could be hostile?"

"Other survivors can always be hostile,"  Emmet mumbles as he reaches for his shotgun.  "Best to be prepared... just in case... Having a weapon out from the start tends to deter anyone from trying anything, I've noticed."  He cocks the weapon.   "I say we approach together.  I'll have the gun out and ready, but not raised or pointed at them.  If there are two of us, a weapon visible, and two Pokemon out... well, hopefully if they got any ideas, they'll abandon them."

“I wonder if there’s fruit snacks here. I really want some fruit snacks…”

The wooden floor of the small house squeaked quietly as Kit snooped about the strange kitchen, scavenging for food with her plush Pikachu backpack as Mr. Whiskers pitter-pattered along beside her with his head down.

The Espeon glanced around nervously. “I-- I just hope there’s no zombies, Miss…”

Kit cautiously began opening cabinet doors above the kitchen countertops. She sighed under her breath as her arms strained to reach up to the first cabinet, her short stature yet again making the Epidemic difficult.

“Oh, don’t be such a negative nelly,” Kit replied, waving a hand dismissively as she rummaged through the many cabinets. “Besides, we-- SWEET SON OF A BITCH!”

The Espeon bounced up from where he stood, landing sideways with his large ears backwards and fur spiking straight up. “What!?”

“I found some! In the back of the cabinet!” Kit squeaked loudly, “And these ones are shaped like Pikachu!”

Kit flung over her shoulder anything useless in her way of the treasured snacks, including a bottle of spoiled black ketchup that landed behind them in the bloodied living room.

“Miss!” Mr. Whiskers scolded her quietly. He tilted his head towards the living room with wide eyes taking up almost all of his face. Kit’s eyes followed his gaze and she saw it: A legless, undead Abra lying pitifully on its stomach in front of the worn-out couch, having just crawled out from underneath it. The bottle of spoiled ketchup was right beside the creature’s head, busted open with some of the contents now on the Abras face.

Kit’s smile fell momentarily, the sparkle in her dark eyes fading. “We’re fine,” she said to her Espeon, her voice more high-pitched than usual as her mouth curved into a far-less genuine smile this time. “It doesn’t even have any legs. Just go back to your ball; We’ll be out of here in a minute.”

Kit returned Mr. Whiskers and shoved his Pokeball in her backpack before he could protest. She pulled her small hunting knife from her bag for safety, and turned her now-angry gaze to the Abra. It stared back at her with its expressionless face. “Just try to eat me, you legless bastard--”
In the blink of an eye, the creature was gone. Vanished. Wait, what? Kit frantically glanced around, knife in hand, but was still caught much off guard when the Abra suddenly fell out of nowhere on top of her and knocked her to the floor. Kit swung her knife at the creature’s head as it opened its mouth to bite her neck, but mid-swing suddenly Kit’s back slammed against the floor again -- no, this was ground. Sand. And the ceiling was now a blindingly-bright blue sky. In a desert.

The fuck?

Kit punched the undead Abra off of her chest and scrambled to her feet to quickly step away. She retrieved Buddy’s Pokeball from her bag, but as she released the Houndoom, the Abra vanished once again. Kit flung Buddy’s Pokeball to the ground, and he popped out as she spun around peering through rugged sandstorm winds for the Abra.

“Get back here you ketchup-covered bitch!”

There was silence. With an angry groan Kit tore off the leather jacket tied around her waist and threw it over her head, holding it far over her face as a makeshift shield from the stinging sand that beat against her bare skin. She looked over at Buddy, who stared up at her through the cloud-like dust with severe judgement in his narrow red eyes.

“Where the fuck are we and what the hell did you do?”

Kit paused for a moment, unsure as she gathered her thoughts. That was a good question. She knew she had made a mistake, as usual, but where on earth were they? “Well, I think Unova has deserts… and Hoenn… Sinnoh… Pretty much everywhere except Johto and Kanto...” Kit hung her head down lower and looked away. “There was an Undead Abra. I might’ve not taken it seriously and I might’ve forgotten they could Teleport. But-- But we’ll be okay! It’s not so--” Kit stopped mid-sentence to pull her jacket farther down in front of her face and cough out sand from her throat. “Okay, okay, this is bad, and I admit we are so fucked right now. But we’re not gonna change anything by standing around complaining; We need to move forward and find a way out of here.”

There was a moment of silence as Kit peered through the sandstorm. The dusty clouds made it difficult to see far ahead, but Kit had a bad feeling that everything looked the same anyways.

“Um…” Kit turned several times, looking in all directions that resulted in her spinning in a circle. “What direction should we go in?”

The Houndoom sighed heavily. “Speechless, kid. You’ve rendered me fuckin’ speechless.” He glanced around and gestured to the left with his head. “That way. Maybe if we go that way it’ll take longer for us to inevitably die.”

Kit sighed under her breath. Surviving was going to be much, much more difficult now in a desert… But she would find a way to. She had to. Kit shrugged a shoulder at her Houndoom and began walking in the direction he suggested. “I should’ve renamed you Nelly,” she said with a light-hearted roll of her eyes, though there was nothing light-hearted about the dread she felt deep inside with every blind step she took into the painful desert sandstorm.