(ACE) The STARK Team

The bird, identifying themself as Maxwell, held no reply to Sahara's question; she didn't feel the need to pry, everyone had their stories and they were pretty much all tragedies these days. Should someone have a decent life, loving spouse and child, Sahara be damned, she'd kick their ass for it. It was almost funny in her mind but not quite.
"Little birdy!" Nikora swiped at Maxwell with a paw, but was it of curiosity or... something a bit more sinister? "Um, Nikora, are you sure you're...y'know...okay?" Maxwell's question was... reminding, to put it that way. Although it was sort of hard to forget earlier events.

Sahara really needed a pair of earmuffs like they wore in the northern parts. Maybe then she could've blocked out Frank's nails-on-a-chalkboard laughing. His quips at Maxwell earned her full pissed offery. "Frank, do us all a favour and shut yer damn mouth for two minutes," For the love of everything good, Smith spoke for them all.
"I'm keepin' yer all alive even if it costs me my own life." ... How does one react to a crazy old Steel behemoth planning an early retirement? Sahara sighed in either annoyance or distaste for the idea, "We're all going to make it through this. Even if it's by a hair's breath." As she spoke, she almost felt like she were lying. To herself. To everyone.

"Down there..." The jumpy Zoroark seemed to be noticing something. Sahara's ears perked and narrow sapphire eyes followed his gesture down; there held three forms ripping at some poor soul's remains. They were infected, tearing mercilessly at the body laying there in ribbons. "What should we do?" Jude asked, holding onto Smith's tail for either comfort or balance or whatever. "We be quiet and see if we can sneak past 'em. Follow me, stay close and be quiet,"
Sahara watched the infected in disgust. Vile, mindless creatures hellbent on nothing but causing more death. But... Nikora. Was it only a matter of time...? Would she turn into something wicked, something like them?

Holding onto a deep breath George almost hoped that Nikora would calm herself a bit. While he was really enjoying this renewed vigor in her the less then pleased expressions around them said otherwise. At least it didn't seem to of scared off their new avian friend. "Name's Maxwell!" It chirps in response instead of fleeing for its life. The male Growlithe's tail starts to wag as he lets go of the breath. Maxwell, that was such a nice name, but the bird was not about to linger on the introductions as it inquires, "Um, Nikora, are you sure you're...y'know...okay?" Upon hearing her name Nikora perks, ears standing tall and tail wagging vigorously, as she lets her ruby eyes rest upon the bird. The words themselves went right over her head but the little fire type had her full attention.

When Nikora gives no verbal reply George quickly utters, "Yeah, yeah she's fine. Just wants to get out of here like the rest of us." Looking away from the bird he mutters much more quietly, "..If we get out of here." Using his body to herd Nikora in the opposite direction the pair gives the bird a bit more space. Dont die from stress now, He thinks humorously to himself. Hey, if it died then they could eat it, but he really hoped that didn't happen cause the new guy seemed like a cool dude. As he moves Nikora away George does his best to ignore Franks insolent but true comments before Smith gives them yet another riveting rendition of their plans. Can we just do it already? All the talking and the slow traveling.. if they were going to die here he just wanted it over with, a blaze of glory and not more of this tease bullshit.

While George took any fun with the birdy away Nikora turned her attention back to Jude. He was moving his paws feverishly and ushering something seemingly important to Smith since it was so hush hush. Tell me tell me Jude, I want to know what's up! Veering to the side she tried to push her way past George and closer to the Dark type but the male blocked her at each step. "No fun," She growls at him but the males expression is hard and he remains quiet. "What should we do?" Jude's voice was soft but she was honing in on it. It was all about Jude right now in her head and she wanted to know what he was up to. Barking once at the sound of his voice, thankfully it was a soft bark, she literally pushes her mate out of the way to get closer to the Zoroark. "Nikora, stop!" He hisses under his breath but the female was determined and stamping her way up to her friend with the shiny blue ball.

Moving up just close enough to peer over the edge the undead Growlithe gasps with joy. "We be quiet and see if we can sneak past 'em." There was Pokemon down there... and with food! "Follow me, stay close and be quiet," Smith's voice is utterly lost as hunger whispers in the back of her mind. How long had it been since she had eaten, since she had had a proper meal? There was more new Pokemon to meet and they had food enough to share! Tapping both her forepaws on the ground Nikora follows after Smith and whispers with clear excitement, "Look, more friends! Smith lets go meet them!"

"Sure thing dad. I'm sure Heatran thinks martyr's go down real easy." The Gothitelle sneers but shuts up none the less.
The bird was an amusing little diversion but the hulking great steel type was right, as much as he hated admitting others were right. Now was the time for action not words and that meant driving forwards and not rubbing it in more than he had to (and he HAD to) that the only one of their merry little band that stood a chance of flying out couldn't. It was a brief, faint light of hope that had been snuffed out nearly as soon as it appeared, so he laughed because if he started to cry it wouldn't stop. That was one of the first lessons he had learnt back when he had first ran away from home and was cold and hungry in the unfamiliar wilderness. If he was sad they would say he's weak so he didn't get sad, he got mad and the anger boiling up inside him was almost as hot as the dry, scorching air of this fucking stupid volcano. He grinds his teeth.
The circular shapes of his 'hair' ruffle with movement. He'd always been a godawful psychic. The telekinesis aspect of things he was right on top of, large rock was an exceptionally satisfying battlefield tactic, but when it came to reading minds and things like that he could just about find an undead before he stood on it but not by much. His much dimmed psychic senses were picking up the faint buzz of unlife now. Great. His teeth were on edge and his fists were itching. He wanted to punch something until its soft, rotted skull caved in around his hands and trying it on the Growlithe would be more trouble than it's worth. He wants to fight already, not sneak past like some timid rattatta past a sleeping Persian. His lip draws back in a silent snarl, exposing his teeth but he is silent, waiting. If Smith wants his trust he is going to wait and see what the Aggron does first.

"S-Sorry about Frank." The Audino stutters, his voice squeaking on the first syllable. "He's really not so bad once you get to know him; he's just grumpy because it's hot in here and he wants to fight."
The normal type's blue eyes gleam; he actually believes every word coming out of his mouth is the truth.
Marco offer a paw to shake, then realizes its an awkward gesture when introducing himself to a bird and smoothes over his sticking out tuft of hair instead to cover the motion. Nice. Now everyone knows he's a bundle of nerves. At least his sweating isn't just nervous sweating, it really is hot in here.
He peeps around the Gothitelle's skirt as the psychic type looks down with a cruel sneer on his face. His purple skinned hands twitch at his sides with desire to turn into fists.
"Look, more friends! Smith lets go meet them!" The newly undead fire type pipes up.
Frank's cold blue eyes fall on her.
"Sure, go down and say hi. Look, they're even having a nice meal. Why don't you see if you can have some while we check ahead."
"Frank..." The normal type says warningly and the Gothitelle grins humourlessly.
"Listen Maxie-boy, just stay close to Marco here." The psychic type rests his muscled arm against the audino's head and ruffles his pink hair. "He'll see you right."
Marco quickly pushes Frank aside, aware the gesture is mostly to mock their difference in height, and gives the fire flying type a half grin as he flattens down the fur on his head again.

While you were not paying attention, you missed a lot. This was your fault, and that was already known, but it made you remain silent, merely watching as the interactions went around in a circle. Speaking up now, whether introducing yourself late or showing surprise, would give away that you had been distracted (again) and that would not fly well. So you remained silent, obediently by the Zoroark's side. With the monster gone, Alhoon, your skin no longer felt like it was on fire, and to call it pleasant would be an understatement. It was still uncomfortably hot, but now you knew it could be so much worse.

"Name's Maxwell!" Watching the bird made a timid smile come to your features, but you remained adamantly hidden behind Jude's frame. Maxwell looked cool-- the species was something you knew. Fletchling... Talonflame? You knew there was another, the line was a second stage evo right?, but it escaped you for the moment. Damn, it was just one of those 'mons you had trouble recalling. Your frown deepened, your brow furrowing as you stared down at the ground, thinking.
"If I may ask...Why did you not just fly out of here?" That... was a good point. You looked up, dark eyes flickering with interest behind your thin framed glasses. But the way he responded, the fiery bird's face turning away, you recognised that well enough. He looks uncomfortable... he must be lost, or trapped. That was not a stretch, but the question was why would he not openly admit it? Pride. Okay, yeah, that made sense. It did not help that the dick in a dress would probably make it a much bigger deal, too. You could not blame Maxwell, then, though it would be rude to ask in private even if you cared enough to. And like fuck were you going to bluntly ask something embarrassing when you did not even know the damn stranger.

Laughter interrupted your thoughts, and you stepped forward once to see, what fucking surprise, Frank being the source of the sound. "Wow bird boy, you are fucked."
You bit back the urge to growl. "We're all fucked," you snapped, though between the roaring of the volcano, the eerie undead Nikora, and everyone else talking... it would be no surprise if your voice drowned between all of it. But you could not just stay silent, this guy was being not just rude but fucking offensive. Shaking out your bulb, a soft hmmph escaped you while the others continued speaking.
"As far as we can figure the only way out of this place involves murdering a motherfucking Heatran in what'll likely be the awesomest suicide ever."
"You can come with us. It is much safer if we stay in a group. We have a better chance of surviving that way, that is, if you can't just fly out."
You were guessing that last part was true, but Maxwell kept from giving another answer, instead chirping and adding, "Well, I'll tag along." You were actually happy to hear that. The bird seemed... cool, was that the right word? "Wouldn't want to miss out on a suicide mission, right?" Hopefully he proved to not be as mad or foolish as others in the team. Your eyes flickered to Frank and away.

Unfortunately, you were brought back to the reality of the group as the undead continued rushing towards Jude. You bristled, half thankful that the Zoroark remained between you and her and half wanting to be much, much further away period."Nikora, stop!" The sharp command was ignored, and you flinched as the Growlithe was much closer than before. Oh kill me now. You would never be okay around her and you wish that it could be... dealt with... as messed up as it sounded. You bit back a half whimper, though it formed a squeak of alarm when Jude pushed forward to approach Smith.
"U-Um, Smith?" Now or never.
"What is it, lad?" You rushed forward, finding yourself halfway between Jude and the bird. But being out in the open did not make you feel safe at all, and it only grew as the vulpine pointed.
"Down there..."
You did not need to look, the expression on the others' faces and the sound of crunching bones was enough for you. "We be quiet and see if we can sneak past 'em." Oh this was not okay. "Follow me, stay close and be quiet," You were going to die. Or throw up. Or fall in lava. Maybe all three. Probably all three. Oh you were so fucked.

You swallow loudly, finally making the decision, and hissing, "Psst!" at Maxwell. However, you were ran over, again, by the Audino. Disappointment was a cold stone in your stomach, but you merely remained silent after that as Marco spoke.
"S-Sorry about Frank." You had to wonder how many times the Gothitelle's mother had to say that same sentence. "He's really not so bad once you get to know him; he's just grumpy because it's hot in here and he wants to fight." Yeah, sure. Your face twisted, a half scowl forming.

"Look, more friends! Smith lets go meet them!" This ""pet"" undead was quickly losing it's novelty.
"Make her be quiet!" you spat at a whisper, eyes vicious from fear as you snapped them to Smith then Gregory.
"Sure, go down and say hi. Look, they're even having a nice meal. Why don't you see if you can have some while we check ahead."
You wanted to scream. Shut HIM the hell up too!
"Listen Maxie-boy, just stay close to Marco here."
Oh hell no. No. Your temper flared then, giving you courage from the stress and fear of the situation.
"Maxwell!" you hissed, a whisper. You released one of your vines, half holding it up in the air to get the bird's attention but to stay away from the undead. Thankfully, he listened to you over Frank, and started coming to your side over the psychic type's. But when you realised just how close Nikora was, you bounded forward with a squeak of fear. NEVER MIND. I am coming to you, bro. Meeting halfway in the middle, you shot one look to the fire type, much more comfortable with the distance. Relief was clear in your eyes as you sighed, but you still jerked your head, asking him to come closer. "Don't trust the Gothitelle," you whispered, careful to speak barely above a breath in your paranoid of Frank hearing. "He's dangerous."

Your eyes begged him to trust you, sincerity bright within them. After a few seconds, your smile faltered, giving way as you awkwardly dropped the eye contact. "I, ahh, my name is Vincent." You realised too late he might assume your gender and hoped you could at least get lucky, passing for another one in the group.

[ ooc: permission given to manipulate Maxwell a little bit ]

Jude barely breathed as they began to creep slowly along the edge, trying desperately hard not to attract the attention of the group of infected below them. For the moment they seemed occupied with their meal; whatever they'd killed was a big Pokemon with enough meat on it to last them a good day or two. But would infected decide to abandon their meal for a fresh kill? Jude swallowed and tried to keep the freakout that was surely on the horizon in check; even just minutes after Alhoon's reemergence, he already felt he was due another one.

For a Pokemon so large, Jude was surprised just how quietly Smith was moving. His feet tread the ground slowly and softly, and he took long steps to make up for the sluggish movement of his legs. Jude peered around the Aggron's wide form and saw with relief that the ledge they were on broadened out in just a few more metres. Even if there were infected around, at least he could remove falling fifty feet onto solid rock to his list of worries.

"Look, more friends!" Jude jumped a good few inches in the air when Nikora suddenly appeared right behind him, trotting along and looking quite excited about current events. Looking into her dead eyes gave him a chill that had absolutely nothing to do with the chamber's air temperature. "Smith lets go meet them!" Could she smell the blood from the corpse? Surely she could; Jude certainly did. The rancid stench of death clung to the back of his throat, making him want to gag.

"...Let's not, lass," Smith answered after a moment, casting a look over his shoulder to check that everyone was still following. Jude held on to the Aggron's tail and tried to keep his eyes on it, boring the details of what looked like bite scars in his mind. As long as he didn't look at the morbid sight below him or inhale too sharply, he'd be all right. He wouldn't lose his head, or throw up, or--

Jude's heart leaped up into his throat as his foot slipped. His stomach flipped as he scrambled to regain his balance on the ledge. Smith froze and shot a glare at him as several small stone bounced down the slope towards the feasting monsters. One of them hissed, baring its filthy teeth as it raised its head from its meal, its lifeless eyes scanning the environment around it.

"Don't move," Smith whispered, his stance deathly still. Jude regained his grip on his tail, panting as his heart ran a marathon in his chest.

He'd screwed it up. The infected would notice them and attack and everything would just go to hell. Visions of chaos and bloodshed jolted through Jude's mind as he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his head against Smith's armour. Hopefully Mercy would be on his side for once.

"Look, more friends! Smith lets go meet them!" Nikora whispered gleefully, stopping Sahara mid-step regardless of the fact she wasn’t even being spoken to. The Arcanine paused, dumbstruck for a moment. And then, Frank had to get his two-cents in. Well, what a surprise. Sahara had almost missed his smartass quips at every freakin’ thing happening. Sarcasm. “Sure, go down and say hi. Look, they're even having a nice meal. Why don't you see if you can have some while we check ahead.”

”For fuck‘s sake, why don‘t you go see if you can join them and be their queen?” Sahara spat at Frank, growling. Her eyes were unforgiving, deathly serious until a commotion snapped her attention forward. Jude was desperately trying to regain himself on the ledge, sending rocks tumbling downwards. Smith was not the only one glowering at the Zoroark as Sah nearly snapped, but she literally bit her tongue and cheek to keep her mouth shut; one of the infected had taken a notion to look around following the sound, and if she had to just shut up one time to keep them alive, then she supposed that was her only choice. It wasn’t a choice she liked, but whatever.

"Don't move," the Aggron said. Sahara’s breaths came out forced through her nose, sharply inhaling and exhaling as her temper was still blazing hot like the hellish heat in this place. She’d have to take out some anger on the Heartran assuming they ever made it to the damn thing. Sahara could just imagine the bastard enjoying a spot of tea while waiting for them.

And that was even more aggravating, imaginary or not.

”For fuck‘s sake, why don‘t you go see if you can join them and be their queen?” The Arcanine snaps at him.
Only a psychic or a pokemon that could detect aura would notice how cold Frank goes at that statement. Not a sign of it shows on his face, not so much as a twitch of the fanned frills around his head (usually his most expressive part) showed his intentions as he gathered up psychic energy with the ease of clenching a fist, ready to push the fire type off the edge with a burst of psychic energy and to hell with the consequences...
Marco's paw grabs his arm as he raises it, a faint blue light already playing around his purple fingers. Frank's head snaps around to glare down at the small pink normal type, his blue eyes icy.
Slowly the audino shakes his head.
Frank briefly shows teeth, his expression undecided if it's going to be a snarl or a smile. Marco does not remove his paw.
"Don't move," The aggron says and immediately a response is cuing on Frank's tongue that he is forced to swallow in all it's bile bitterness because the steel type is right. Don't move, don't speak, barely breathe because the fucking point of stealth is not to get seen and the Zoroark just fucked up so it's time to see if it's about to fuck them over. Thankfully as a psychic type that doesn't limit him entirely. He wasn't a good psychic but he wasn't a powerless one. He could communicate telepathically if he focused hard enough.
Why did you stop me?! I was about to send that bitch to hell A red wave of anger colors his psychic communication.
Marco winces, the normal type clinging tightly to the Gothitelle's skirt and trying to hold as still as possible.
S-Sorry Frank. His mental voice is as small and timid as his speaking one. If Frank had to put a color to it (and color was the easiest associate for the indescribable quality thoughts had to a non psychic) it would be a pale pastel pink, like something the depth of shade had been washed out of.
Don't apologize; I'm still going to do it! Frank's mental voice snarls. No-one questions my gender and lives!

I know but please don't fight now Marco squeaks, struggling to project his thoughts in a way Frank would be able to hear.
Mind-reading was a struggle, the Gothitelle had explained to him, anything alive was thinking a lot more than they outwardly perceived as thoughts. For someone like Frank who had never done much training you really needed to focus on what you wanted to project for him to be able to pick it up and even then he couldn't pick up on it unless he was focusing his complete attention on listening to you, an experience Marco found terrifying.
The Audino clings tightly to the dark skin of Frank's 'skirt' as his blue eyes look down in fixed terror at the undead looking up from their meal. Surely this would be the time to panic and flee but Smith was taking an outside chance that the unpredictable passage of the disease may have damaged their eyes or the parts of their brain that managed perception enough for them to not be able to see them. Many predators would detect motion as something to be pursued so stillness could theoretically save them. None of this stopped the Audino from feeling scared.
Please, please go back to eating He prays, forgetting Frank is monitoring his thoughts until he hears the harsh bark of a mental laugh and the Gothitelle's gaze moves from the Audino to the Aggron.
I can do it He silently projects the words into the Steel type's mind without asking permission as a polite psychic might. I can take them all, I can take them right now. Some tinge of his blood lust and frustration slips into the mental message he isn't sure if the Aggron would even know how to respond to. Just nod and I'll flatten them with a big rock, it won't even be hard.
Frank's teeth show.
We don't have to fuck around being sneaky for smallfry like this. Let me kill them now.

((OOC: Permission given to have Frank telepathically talk to Smith))

(skip)

Shit. This wasn't good. The list of things that had gone wrong today was getting far too long for Smith's liking, and a pack of undead detecting them was almost as bad as the volcano blowing up.

He tried to remind himself that scolding Jude was not the right way to go about things; the poor lad hadn't meant to slip, and he was clearly just as terrified as he looked; Smith could feel his hammering heartbeat up against the scales on his tail. This wasn't anybody's fault - just an unfortunate accident. Fate was not on their side today. Of all the days ... fer fuck's sake...

Smith clenched his jaw as he looked up. They were almost there; just a few more feet and they'd reach the next area. As long as they got there, they could get out of the sight of the undead. The Aggron cast a quick glance down at the group of walking corpses, who were still aggravated and on the alert, one of them sniffing at the stones that had fallen.

A group of stalagmites jutted down from the ceiling in front of them, like dark shadows of sharp fangs waiting to tear into their flesh. Smith squinted up at one of the longer ones on the right; attached to the bottom was a round shape. Perhaps it was just a deformity in the rock, or something stuck to it, but it unnerved him all the same. He couldn't remember any of the stalagmites having anything other than a pure cone shape--

I can do it. What the--? Since when was Frank's voice in his fucking head? It was so loud Smith immediately felt himself getting a headache; it was almost as if the Gothitelle had a megaphone held up to his ear. I can take them all, I can take them right now. Of course he could speak telepathically - he was one of those damn psychics. Smith growled at Frank as he glared over his shoulder at him. Just nod and I'll flatten them with a big rock, it won't even be hard.

Look, I'm the one to tell you what to do, lad, the Steel-type snarled, enunciating his thoughts as clearly as possible, although he was fairly sure that Frank could hear them. The Gothitelle had a point, and Smith was sure that he could do it, but causing yet another rockfall in a place as unsound as this was a terrible idea. Unhinge the wrong rock from its place and the entire cavern could come down on them. Yer got that? You listen to me. Now get outta my head or--

Whatever was attached to the stalagmite was suddenly moved, turning a pair of angry red eyes towards them. With an aggressive screech it detached itself from the rock, two pairs of gnarled wings unfurling, flapping and propelling the creature towards them. It was fast; far too quick for Smith to prepare an attack to counter it. It wasn't until it was flapping around his head, hissing and snapping its jaws at his face, that Smith realised that it was a Crobat.

The Aggron snarled and immediately launched a fist at the undead bat, punching it squarely in the face and sending it spiraling out into the darkness. More shrieks and roars from below indicated that the group below had been alerted to their presence, and dark shapes were beginning to scramble their way up the cliff-face towards them. Smith cursed and turned back to the ledge ahead of them; if they were going to fight, they needed plenty of space to do it.

"Quickly! This way!" he yelled at the group behind him, dragging a near-hysterical Jude with him as he raced towards the ledge. The Crobat had recovered, and was speeding at them again with its bloodied jaws open wide. "Get to the ledge! Frank," he called to the Gothitelle behind him, "if yer got an idea, do it now!"

The youth Arcanine was alert; her bright eyes swept over the area lit minimally, ending up with her line of sight following Smith's. To... a stalagmite? Sahara was no expert on rock formations. She noticed one, shaped somewhat oddly at the base, but otherwise saw no reason for anyone to piss themselves.

Her alertness however, faltered at some point until she heard an angry, guttural screech. Much too quickly, something blurred towards them away from the shadowy stalagmites, flicking dual wings and targeting the Aggron. It was a flurry of red eyes and teeth as the blur, a Crobat, snapped at Smith with malice and hunger. The undead was stopped short and sent shooting back into the shadows on behalf of the old Aggron.

Not without consequence however.

Through the dark, Sahara could see shadows below, silhouettes in the dark moving forward and up the cliff. "Quickly! This way!" Smith yelled from ahead, dragging along his Zoroark pal and moving to a ledge.
Back from the pits of the dark, the Crobat was pissed and moving fast. Sahara's jaws opened and a Flamethrower spun, the white hot flames readying to shoot the bat. Her eyes cut back and forth, aiming carefully but the damn thing--

Her priorities suddenly changed. There was an entire group that needed to move and an entire group of undead hurrying toward them. She bit back her fire, looking back and forward as Smith shouted again:  "Get to the ledge! Frank, if yer got an idea, do it now!"

Sahara's legs bunched and then she kicked herself to the ledge, immediately whirling around; ”Get the hell over here, everyone!” she growled urgently rather than harshly.
Smith apparently had some sort of plan, but any plan had holes and could get someone killed - Sahara stood with her tail straight behind her, prepared to not let that happen.

Nikora's tail wags harder as she listens to Frank's encouragement. The more the merrier, whohoo! Her paws brush forward, the exicted motion scattering pebbles down the ledge as she prepares to head down to the other Pokemon when another voice stops her. ”For fuck‘s sake, why don‘t you go see if you can join them and be their queen?” Flicking her red sights at Sahara she can see the Arcanine is not looking at her but the Growlithe's head tilts in confusion. She was the only other female.. certainly Sahara had meant her, right? Their queen.. Such honors weren't even a passing thought to the simple pup and she had no desire to entertain them. If by some stroke of magic she became queen of anything, hell, she wouldn't even know where to start!
"...Let's not, lass," The Aggron urges and his words are not but soothing to the females ears. He didn't want her to be queen of the other Pokemon? Well, that was fine. Her head bobs with content- her friends were better anyway! Looking away from the feasting Pokemon Nikora's gaze falls back upon the shiny blue orb in Jude's fur as she pads after him.
Her stomach churns.

Taking in a deep breathe George lets out a heavy but forcibly quiet sigh. Why wasn't Nikora listening to him..? She was the quiet one, the attentive one, the follower with great ideas. This wasn't like her at all... The sharp sound of falling stones hits his one ear as Jude's foot slips but George's focus instantly latches to Nikora; the sudden movement and the smell of fear and blood had roused her attention as she lunged toward the Zoroark. Oh no you don't! Bunching his muscles he lunges as well, pumping just enough power into his legs so he could sink his fangs around her tail and still stand firm. The female Growlithe is jerked back and makes a small squeak of shock, one foot pawing at the air. "Don't move," Smith hushes, not that George was in any position to go anywhere.

The wait was agonizing. Every moment felt like a lifetime as the hound had to split his focus between keeping quiet, restraining the female who was still tugging against him, and watching the undead below. With his adrenaline pumping again the fog that had been in his mind finally starts to clear and everything around him comes in full force. The reek of blood and death pounds against his snout and is made worse by his proximity to Nikora's wound. The heat of the volcano, something he usually found comforting, was suddenly too constricting and unwelcome, a smothering pressure he could not shake. He took in a breath and found his fur-slathered tongue too dry for his liking. This entire space was too overwhelming. Please. He begged, his eyes shifting between each of the shapes below. Just feed and forget us. Anything, he wanted anything to happen so they could just keep going and get this shit over and done.

Cree skre ee kree scee!

...That was not what he had in mind. As the large bat fluttered angrily around him the hound recoiled, his gasp on Nikora's tail failing. Instantly she hopped away from him, jumping away and pawing playing at the air before Smith literally beat the bat away. "Quickly! This way!" George bound forward, doubling back to make sure Nikora, who was now peering over the ledge at the undead below and barking, was following him. Roughly grabbing her scarf and letting his adrenaline guide him the male drags his mate along with him as he sprints, giving her no choice but to follow.

They had to get to the ledge. Nothing else mattered anymore as fight or flight kicked in. Nothing. George's mind does its best to filter out his surroundings but the sensations are just too overwhelming. Nikora's weight was awkward to move, dragging down his speed despite being full-sprint, and he near let go of her scarf in the flight panic. ”Get the hell over here, everyone!” Sahara's voice turns into nothing but a cluster of sounds as he grips the fabric tighter. Nothing matters. In that instant the Growlithe realized only his and Nikora's lives were priority. Scrambling onto the ledge he trusts his mate forward, giving her a quick glance over before shoving her forward to keep moving. No one else matters. His paws do not stop. Use them to survive. This was no longer his suicide mission. The others could kill Heatran and open the way to the outside but he and Nikora would survive.
His loyalty breaks.

The conversation was cut short, though, and you jumped as the sound of rocks crumbling was heard. Wha- what- what happened?! You whipped around, eyes going wide, but all you could see was Smith and Jude; everyone else had gone immediately still. "Don't move," the Aggron had not looked more intimidating than he had at that moment in time, if you had not already been perspiring then you damn were now. Had your voice carried? Oh Lugia, what if the Gothitelle had heard you?! You stared around, fearfully trying to place him, but suddenly you did not see him. Or Marco. Oh no oh no oh no this is not good not good. You needed to let Smith know. like, right that second, but you could not move. Your mouth was dry as cotton and suddenly you feared coughing.

Smith, Smith please, you tried to will him your way, but to no avail. Even as you contemplated using one of your vines to get his attention, that would be moving and quite possibly alert-- oh Jesus fuck. Your eyes only then landed on the dark, muddled shapes below and your entire chest went cold as if your heart itself had melted. No matter how many times you saw the walkers, it still scared you to your wits every time. There was no way you would be able to speak, not when those things were there. Your heart was racing so much suddenly that you started seeing blotches, unable to make out the species, but even then you tried to focus. Frank. Marco. Frank. Luck was not on your side, however, as a screech ripped through the air without warning, causing you to give a shrill cry of your own.

The thing was tiny, round, with four wings and fangs-- you were able to logic out it being a Crobat just as it rammed at the Aggron. "Smith!" you cried, unable to hold the name back, but that was the least of your problems. You spotted movement out of the corner of your eyes and suddenly the entire pack was after you. "Ahhh!" you squeaked, running forward even before Smith called back, "Quickly! This way!" He had somehow batted the undead bat away, but it was quickly recovering. You could only pray that the dinosaur had a stone edge he could kill the thing with. But even then, with your life in danger, you did not relish the killing. If only everything would just be quiet and go away. Your throat constricted further but you were able to dart past George and his dead mate, the female seemingly unable to grasp the danger of the situation.

”Get the hell over here, everyone!” The Arcanine stood tall, strong and protective, and you could almost feel tears of gratefulness in your eyes. As you prepared to pass her, you called out, "S- Smith! They're gone! Frank-- and Marco!" But then it occurred to you. We're down on fire power. Spinning around on your heels right beside Sahara's forepaws, your eyes narrowed with determination. Throwing the back end of your body into the air, you aimed your bulb like a cannon as a sticky string shot flew out; you tried to hit the pursuers, but having their feet hit the ground and trip was just as good, too.

Maxwell gave a sigh of relief as the Aggron came to his rescue, but that was soon cut short as they revealed to him that they needed to kill someone to get out of here. That...he wasn't sure if he could do something like that. Call him naive, but Maxwell feels sick at the thought of having to actually kill something, all because they couldn't just get away from it. "I, uh...I'm sure we'll all be fine," he responds; the words sound lame and fake, but then, he hadn't put his heart into them. Did they really need to kill somebody to escape...? By the way, lad," Smith says to him, and Maxwell immediately focuses on the Aggron; he wasn't dumb enough to just ignore a giant, spiky rock Pokemon. "How are you in battle? How's yer style?" Oooo? Smith actually believes he can help? Maxwell is shocked for a second-he wasn't a fighter, and everyone he's ever known has pointed out how small and weak he is. Though his mind protests at the idea of being a part of the fight, some part of him cannot help but feel overjoyed that he is being included. "Well, you see..." he begins, but trails off as the pink Pokemon begins to speak to him. Maxwell's heart flutters a bit-he seems nice enough, but his friend, Frank...definitely not.
"S-Sorry about Frank. He's really not so bad once you get to know him; he's just grumpy because it's hot in here and he wants to fight." Grumpy? The guy was a complete dick! Maxwell doesn't actually say that out loud, but still-wait. Why was the pink one holding out his paw towards him? Staring in confusion, Maxwell doesn't respond as the other Pokemon hastily begins to smooth his fur, as if trying to cover up the awkward moment. "Um, y-yeah, sure," Maxwell stammers. Sweet mother of Ho-Oh, what was that?! Luckily, or perhaps not, Jude and Smith provide a distraction from that humiliating fiasco, though it's not something Maxwell ever asked for.

"U-Um, Smith?"
"What is it, lad?"
"Down there..."
Against every instinct screaming at him, Maxwell timidly peeks over the edge, only to rest his eyes upon three rotten undead Pokemon ripping apart and devouring an unknown Pokemon that had fallen victim to their relentless claws and bloodied fangs. Barely choking back a terrified squeak, Maxwell leaps back from the edge, no doubt making himself look like a complete bumbling idiot. His dark eyes were wide with fear; in his mind's eye, that unknown fallen Pokemon was him, and his feathers and shredded organs littered the blood-soaked ground...Stop. STOP. His own mind was a scary place, sometimes, and right now he does not need to be paralysed by fear because of undead that couldn't even see him.
"Listen Maxie-boy, just stay close to Marco here." What? The muscular Gothitelle was talking to him while only being mildly patronising, and was being affectionate to Marco...Maxwell's head hurts trying to comprehend any of this. "He'll see you right." Okay, okay then...Maxwell would've preferred to stay close to Smith and Jude, seeing as they were far more friendly, but he really doesn't want to piss off the short-tempered psychic. He's only a small bird, after all, not even a Talonflame yet. Maybe Marco would prove to be good company, despite that awkward moment from before. Even now he looks sheepish, which was actually kind of adorable.

"Maxwell!" Huh? He catches sight of the Bulbasaur trying to signal him with one of their vines-not an orthodox way of getting people's attention, but Maxwell does not care. He half-flies, half-hops over to the Grass-type, wondering what in the world they want from him; the Bulbasaur is suddenly spooked, rushing forward to meet him at the waypoint, which was just weird. Understandable, considering they were in a scorching volcano with likely endless amounts of mindless, feral cannibal Pokemon, but still weird. Maxwell can tell that this Pokemon was a bit shy, which just left even more questions over why they wanted to speak with him. "Don't trust the Gothitelle," the Bulbasaur whispers, and Maxwell doesn't know what to say. Yes, Frank was a major douchebag, but was he even worse than that? Had something happened before Maxwell had arrived? "He's dangerous." Yes, but why? Maxwell feels his feathers itch with revived curiosity and slight dread-there was no way in hell he wants to be around living Pokemon he can't trust.
"I, ahh, my name is Vincent." As the guy drops eye contact, Maxwell feels a pang of sympathy. "That's a sweet name," he responds in a poor attempt to lighten the mood and maybe help the Bulbasaur feel a little more at ease. With everything that was happening, it wasn't a shock that he was acting very jumpy; hell, Maxwell's heart was likely to go out any second now.

The sounds of rocks striking against the ground, loud as the hooves of a rampaging Tauros, strangles any other words Maxwell tries to get out. Oh, no, no...this was not good, what if the undead down there were drawn to them?! He spots Jude scrambling to cling to Smith again, and it dawns on him-if they were attacked, it would be his fault. There's no way he did that intentionally...he's not a bad guy, calm down... Despite the more logical side of his brain attempts to take over his thoughts, Maxwell is ready to start screaming at the Dark-type, and the consequences be damned. It is fortunate that rationality won, else he would have surely caught the total attention of the predators below them.
"Don't move," Smith commands, his voice barely more than a whisper, and everyone stays as still as the wooden statues that had always been outside of the Fortree Gym. Not a single word comes from anyone in the group, as if the very oxygen in the air has vanished and they were slowly, unknowingly suffocating in the smothering heat. Maxwell can only hope that their lack of movement would be enough to deter the undead Pokemon from continuing to eat, but that hope is dashed when a shrill, earsplitting screech rips the silence apart. In a moment of pure startled instinct, Maxwell takes to the air, giving him a better view of what was attacking: a Crobat, its eyes as red as fresh blood welling up from stinging cut. The creature was a sickly purple, somehow unnatural even though Crobat were that colour when they were alive. Maxwell gives a strangled squeak as Smith slams an armored fist into the Crobat's face, sending into flying into the darkness of the volcano. What was he supposed to do-the undead below were not climbing up, ready to kill them all if they could, what if they caught him-

"Quickly! This way!"
”Get the hell over here, everyone!”
Smith and Sahara's voices distract him just enough to let one logical thought break through-Get to them. With a single deep breath, Maxwell hastily flies over to where the others were gathering, an air of desperation hanging around every flap of his wings. He was absolutely useless in battle; hopefully they had some sort of plan, some way of fighting off all those undead. Smith was certainly strong, and Sahara surely was too, but would it be enough? "S- Smith! They're gone! Frank-- and Marco!" What? B-but-that meant they'd lost another fighter. There was no way they'd just vanished into thin air. Had they just...ditched the group?
We are so fucked.

”Son of a bitch!”

Sah blasted the zombie bastards off one by one, focusing her flames with enough force to literally throw them backwards rather than allow them to charge on while flaming. That was semi-amusing, however if she let them continue their pursuit, they would surely be even deadlier than before. It was a slow process though and they were chasing the Bulbasaur. I'll be damned if you get them!

Sahara's heart pounded in her chest - if something happened to them, she would be responsible because her fucking idiocy would've gotten another Pokémon killed. What could she do?? But she heaved a much needed breath as the Grass-type made it beside her, although bearing some news Sah had missed: "S- Smith! They're gone! Frank-- and Marco!"

What the hell?!

While she was not sad to see either of them go - especially that wiseass Gothitelle - if it wasn't bad before, it was now because they had lost what seemed to be a valuable fighter and a Healer. Dammit.
The Bulbasaur whirled around beside Sahara, positioning their bulb to shoot glue-like string at the approaching undead. The substance did quite well in tangling up their feet and slowing them significantly.

”Hell yes!” she praised with the first phrase in mind, ”Good job.” Her words were followed with a quick inhale and a blast of fire rocketing at an undead at a time. This would not kill them all and they were fiercely outnumbered - what the hell now? ”Smith!” she barked at the Aggron between ragged breaths, ”Shall we run?” She sounded less like herself with each moment. She sounded like a little bitch looking for guidance. Arceus-dammit. I'm no one's bitch.

Heavily panting Nikora came to a stop, her legs stiff yet feeling weak, unresponsive, and shaking like jello. So fast.. so.. unpleasant. Why? Her head pounds, thoughts a challenge to muster coherently. Whats going on? She manages to think, slowly blinking her russet eyes. "S- Smith! They're gone! Frank-- and Marco!" Huh? Gone? Like dead or vanished? Turning her entire head back instead of her body Nikora looks toward the voices source. Bulbasaur? The creature only vaguely registrars as familiar in her mind. Who were- "Are you okay?" Her train of thought is shattered as George walks in and blocks her view of anything else. He was panting and his eyes were wide but he didn't look hurt. You are okay. She manages to conclude, feeling fog roll into her head once more. "Nikora?" The male presses, his voice firm but kind as he forces the female to focus. "Y-yeah, yeah Im okay." Her voice falls very quiet, and after George's eyes look her over one more time he turns away and takes a step closer to Sahara.

The undead were coming closer, way too fucking close really. Vince had botched their forward path a bit, the Arcanine cheering, ”Good job,” but George doubted its longevity. Undead are ruthless. They never stop. The thoughts whisks through his mind suddenly, unwanted. Violently shaking it away he stares at the stalactites littering the ceiling. The original one wouldn't help much anymore, the little demons had all moved, but maybe the ones closer to them could crush them a bit..? Ember.. Flamethrower.. Gust? Biting back a growl George realizes with raising panic they were all useless to break these damn rocks. Even Smith's attacks..could he use them in such tight quarters? You fucking coward Frank.. Yeah, you had a plan. You fucking LEFT. His thick claws curl against the stones.

”Shall we run?” Did they have a choice? They were in a cave system; the undead would always be right behind them if they kept taking tunnels. If they couldn't climb ledges.. maybe.. but eventually they would have to fight. Looking at Nikora once more he can see worry in her eyes. She wouldn't want to fight... Goddamn it. The growl breaks through, and with his hackles raised the male lops to the edge of the ledge, gripping it as best he can with his claws. The undead gurgled, racing up to them with uncanny speed- With such large bodies in their group running wouldn't be much use. What can we do.. Suddenly something brushes his side, and George gasps with horror to see Nikora beside him. "Nikora dont!" He barks, praying that she wasn't about to go greet the attackers.
Taking in a deep breathe Nikora steels his muscles, tosses her head back, and throws it forward with a mighty Roar. "Get back!" The words are near lost in her attack but the blast is so powerful the undead are thrown an admiral way back. One topples down the side of the cliff, its claws vainly scratching for grip on its way down. The walls shake, gravel and dust pouring from the ceiling- maybe that wasn't something to use inside. Pride swells in the males heart and he brushes his mates cheek with his own. Youre the best. Turning to run George finally answers the Arcanine, "Yeah," and, giving Nikora  gentle nudge forard first, starts to move once more. "They wont be stunted long."

No. No. There was no way this bunch of slobbering, moaning idiots were going to get in their way. Smith would slam them all back down to hell where they belonged before they could even open their drooling mouths to bite him. They were so damn close; the Aggron could actually see the cave leading into the magma chamber from where he was standing. He growled angrily, his tail sweeping across the ground as he turned to face his foes. "Frank!" he bellowed as the Crobat from before swooped back around to tackle him. With one final charge, he caught up to Sahara on the wider ledge, immediately ready to start the fight now that he had a lot more space. "Frank! What the hell are yer waitin' for? Do it, now!"

"S- Smith! They're gone! Frank-- and Marco!"
"Wha--" In the momentary distraction the Crobat launched itself at him, the Aggron only holding the screeching, snarling bat's fangs out of his face with a single arm. He grabbed hold of one of its wings and snapped it straight off its body like a twig. Three more snaps and the thing was nothing more than a wiggling torso on the ground. Smith picked it up and threw it over the edge towards the rocks below. "Wha--what do yer mean 'they've gone'?" he panted, well aware of the rest of the horde scrambling their way up the rocks towards them.

"I-It's true, Smith! They've gone!" Jude squeaked from his side. The Zoroark looked petrified, frozen to the spot with all his fur standing on end. His head whipped left and right before looking back up at Smith with wide, worried eyes. "Th-They ... do you think they fell off the edge?!"

That was certainly possible. The mouthy Gothitelle and his mild-mannered friend were definitely dead if that were the case - either from the fall or eaten alive by the horde. Smith ignored the immense pain that stormed into his heart, pushing it back and replacing it with an enraged snarl.

Vincent had fired a String Shot at the incoming horde, tripping them up in their path and giving Smith a moment to think. Not that any sort of plan would save them now - they had no choice but to fight. If they ran, it would only be a disaster, and Smith would have to watch as more of them were killed. At least this way, if they all fought together, they'd have a chance. The ground around Smith rumbled as the ominous whispers of a Stone Edge surfaced; these fuckers would be a stain on the floor by the time he'd finished with them.

”Smith!” Sahara panted, incinerating some of the horde into charred lumps with a Flamethrower. ”Shall we run?” Even the Arcanine was having doubts as to whether they could do this; there were certainly more of them than Smith remembered. Clearly the commotion had attracted them from other parts of the cavern and they had come for their own piece of the action. He and Sahara had far too many differences to keep track of, but he'd expected her to be with him on this one at least.

"No," he firmly replied, the ground around his feet cracking as jagged stones shook upwards into view. "No, we fight. If we run they'll jus' chase us, an' we can't lead an entire horde into Heatran's chamber with us. We'll all be killed."

"...I'll help," Jude almost whispered from his side. "I-I'll try my best. I'll ... I'll fight." Poor Jude looked as though he wouldn't mind if the ground opened up and swallowed him, but the little burst of aggression at the end of his statement made Smith grin. Terrified as he was, he wanted to fight. That spirit was all he needed.

The horde had broken free of the sticky thread that had glued them to the ground, and now that they were closer, Smith could see what they were. Four Pokemon, all fully undead: a Graveller, Skarmory, Magmar and Rhyhorn, all species that were from the local area. They hissed and shrieked and roared as they charged towards them in a fury.

"RrrrrrrrrAAAAAAARGH COME ON THEN!" Smith thundered, the ground splitting open as sharp, deadly claws of solid rock burst out the ground towards the horde. "WHO WANTS TO DIE NEXT?!

The undead were no longer held bound and were approaching fast. Sahara’s breaths were ragged, her throat burning from use of her Flamethrower. Looked like she’d have to get physical with these bastards, and that meant by fighting close-combat. Sah gave a huge breath in prep for the use of a Flame Wheel until the cry of a name had her head whipping to the side in disbelief. “Nikora!?” Sahara repeated.
The smaller female threw back the undead with a fierce Roar, "Get back!"

"They wont be stunted long." George answered, urging Nikora along. The very ground below them rattled, shivering as though it were freezing regardless of the blazing heat in the mountain. Blades of stone jutted out of the cave floor, the Aggron finally deciding to speak; "No, we fight. If we run they'll jus' chase us, an' we can't lead an entire horde into Heatran's chamber with us. We'll all be killed." Okay then.

"I-I'll try my best. I'll ... I'll fight." The edgy Zoroark finally showed something outside of his timid nature. That, Sahara did not see coming, but it was a welcome ally in Jude now that Frank had officially fucked off the face of the planet.
Sahara had a moment to wonder just where the compromise would be here; George was moving Nikora ahead, while Smith and Jude were prepared to put up a fight. Fuck! Sahara’s thoughts snapped, If any of them stay, they could get hurt. If they go, they could run into something even fucking worse. Dammit.

She shot glances between the quartet; Smith and Jude V.S. the horde or Nikora and George against whatever else was lying in wait? And what of the Bulbasaur and Fletchinder? What would they do? But, What the fuck do I do!?
"RrrrrrrrrAAAAAAARGH COME ON THEN!" Smith gave a battle cry as more stone reached out of the ground at the horde, "WHO WANTS TO DIE NEXT?!" The Skarmory of the group took flight, rising above the ground and rushing at Sahara with bloodlust intent. It thrust it’s beak at her eyes, just barely did the Arcanine stumble back in time.

“Damn!” Sahara threw her paw across her muzzle as a whip of air slit into her cheek through her fur. “Fucking Air Slash!” She threw a Flamethrower at the undead Steel bird, mightily pissed now. This thing was about to get it’s ass killed.

Nikora panted, the fog in her mind shifting forward and back with each breathe. George ushered her along, insistent on leaving, but another voice urged its reasoning, "No, we fight. If we run they'll jus' chase us, an' we can't lead an entire horde into Heatran's chamber with us. We'll all be killed." Yeah.. yeah! They had to fight! even if the odds were against them running now would only cause more problems later. Barking in agreement Nikora planted her paws hard against the rough stone of the cave floor, digging her claws in deep to prevent George from moving her any further. He dragged her for another moment, jerking himself back and Nikora forward slightly, before he realized she was no longer following. A rough, sloppy feeling bumped against the females elbows, stirring confusion in her hazy mind, but she ignored it as Jude murmured, "I-I'll try my best. I'll ... I'll fight."

I can fight.. I can fight! The words roared in her mind. She could do it, she could help them all! George must of caught her gaze, as he looked at her with sheer horror, but the female was not deterred and a moment later she turned around and leaped back toward the undead. Growling fiercely Nikora couldn't even see what she was getting into. Sahara roared and the sound of metallic fluttering batted Nikora's ear. Next thing she knew something hot slammed against her cheek. While her Flash Fire prevented any pain the Magmar's Fire Punch was enough to unbalance her, its next hit knocking her onto her side. "Why!" She yelped, though the word did not seem to fit.

Slowed by her confusion the Magmar was on top of her before she could stand. It bit at something around her abdomen, and Nikora battered her paws against the fire type in an instinctual panic. No! Her thick claws scored deep trenches along the Magmars flank but it didnt seem to notice. Stop, stop stop! Kicking her hindpaws inward and throwing her neck out Nikora attempted to protect her belly while sinking her fangs into the Magmar's leg with a powerful Bite. It shrieked with hatred, finally noticing the Growlithe's fight as it pulled its head back, entrails dangling from its jaw. Those.. those had just come from her. Another surge of panic pulsed through her veins and Nikora bit harder, throwing her head side to side as she rolled onto her belly. It was the Magmar that fell over this time and Nikora quickly took advantage and jumped on top of it.

Monsters... It was a demon. A killer. It smelled of blood and tantalized the pups senses. Sinking her fangs deep into its shoulder the Magmar roared out, spitting a blast of fire in her face but Nikora was unaffected, nothing but the scent of its thick, syrupy blood reaching her brain. The hunt! Yes, yes! THE HUNT. She bit harder, swiftly moving her grasp to its throat and shaking her head wildly. It reminded her of the hunt!!


George looked on with horror. ...Why? She didn't want to escape? Nikora was never a huge fighter, she looked for peaceful resolutions. Why would she turn and battle when she was already weak? He would, sure, but Nikora? Instinct? Was Smith's leadership like their old Alphas? Questions pulse through the hounds mind, fueled continuously as he watched Nikora shred the Magmar neck to pieces.. This.. isnt right. The sound of rocks clattering down from the ceiling is lost to him but the stones smacking against his skull snaps the Growlithe to. He couldn't linger now- there was a fight to be had.

Coating his pelt in a thick Flame Wheel George pelted forward. Paying little mind to those around him he jumped at the first thing he saw; the Skarmory. It was attacking Sahara! Tucking his limbs in close he gave the charge all he had but the bird was just a bit too high for him. The brunt of his attack, the actual heated slam, failed to connect but he did manage to roughly singe the steel creatures leg and the tips of one wing. "Dammit!" He cursed upon landing, one paw slipping roughly over the edge of the fall. Flames burn at the back of his throat and with a hard jerk of his head George spits an Ember at the bird, hoping to knock it out of the air or at least distract it.

Smith's voice responding to your warning caused you to flinch gently, not liking to be the center of attention for no reason. Fortunately, Jude spoke up, backing you up, and a relieved sounds came from you. Thank you. The string shot kept the group from getting upon them, tying up their feet, and Sahara called out, "Hell yes! Good job." Good job? A small part inside of you warmed, bathing in the short praise. You had done well, for once.

Fortunately one of the Growlithe helped keep the undead at bay, racing forward with a bellow; "Get back!" You shuddered from the force, feeling the sound waves bouncing off of your already burning skin, but you were not bitching. The pup did a hell of a lot more than you.
"They wont be stunted long," The male added in as they moved.

The ground was growing unstable, causing you to flinch and give an undignified squeak as massive, sharp stones jutted out of the ground. Your heart rate spiked, only able to imagine one of those coming up underneath you, skewering your body and thrusting you high into the air, where no one could reach you as your organs fell--
"No, we fight. If we run they'll jus' chase us, an' we can't lead an entire horde into Heatran's chamber with us. We'll all be killed."

You were thankful for the interruption of the dark line of thoughts, but you quickly panicked. Fight? Oh god all you had was grass knot to offer. Please no fire types please no fire types please no--

"I-I'll try my best. I'll ... I'll fight." Jude was ready to fight, too? Time to man the hell up, Bulbs. Oh man you were so fucked. Having kept close to the Arcanine, you whipped around just as the Aggron let loose a long, fearsome roar.

"RrrrrrrrrAAAAAAARGH COME ON THEN!" You flinched from the pure loudness, suddenly unable to feel your own limbs through the fear. The bodies pulled themselves out of the goo you had laid out-- holy crap, that stopped them for that long??-- and the species became obvious as they entered the light. The good news, two were weak against your only useful move. The bad news? The other two were a Magmar and something that you could not even hit.

"WHO WANTS TO DIE NEXT?!"
Suddenly the ground beneath them ripped apart, the jutting edge of a massive stone thrown towards the oncoming undead. The Magmar smashed into the dead puppy while the Skarmory aimed right for the Arcanine. Time to be useful!!

Your eyes flashed and for a eerily slow second, it seemed like nothing happened as both large ground and rock types. Your heart was pounding, making it hard to think or even see outside of your tunnel vision, but then without any warning, the ground erupted with vines beneath both massive Pokemon. "Yes!" you hissed with satisfaction, controlling the vines and telling them to wrap the crap up out of their legs. Both undead smashed into the ground violently, the Rhyhorn giving a shrieking bellow while the Greveler landed right on it's fat face.

"Suck that!" you crowed, a rare smirk coming across your face. For once you weren't useless, but instead taking down two of the four threats at once! Hell yeah! But you were counting your eggs before they hatched, and both undead were quickly recovering, getting up out of the heaps they had become on the ground. Your eyes widened, the smile falling right off. Oh no, how many times would you have to do that before they died?

Only one way to find out. Your eyes glowed a second time, already preparing a second grass knot to shoot up beneath them.

[ ooc: Okay, so i did some damage calcs and, with same amount of EVs/IVs on both sides, grass knot is a two hit KO on both Graveler and Rhyhorn if they are around level forty, and a 3HOK with any higher level really, from a level 17 Bulba. I'm going to be going with that, if that isn't cool, then lemme know. ]

(Please skip me.)

Although the Growlithe-sized blaze did not entirely make contact with the damn bird, the licks of flames from both George and Sahara's moves seared it's steely body - the Skarmory's flight faltered slightly, bringing it in a bit lower with inconsistent wing-beats. "Dammit!" George's faulty step was quickly remedied as he threw an Ember at the Steel bird.
Sahara followed in closely with a another Flamethrower, her path of flames dodged just barely by the Skarmory but pissing it off enough to bring it on the offense.

Sahara's unsheathed claws clicked against the floor as she gave a hurried leap towards George, landing aside him. Her lips pulled back with a growl, Sah's head lowering aggressively. “George?” she asked quickly, “Shall you be my comrade?” As the Skarmory pulled it's wings in to gain speed, there was hardly a moment to think. Shoot first and ask questions later-like, Sahara's legs pulled beneath her and she jumped at the bird head-on. It's right wing unfurled and the steel feathers brushed against Sah's side, the tips disappearing into her skin.

Sahara whipped her jaws back at the Skarmory and placed fangs into it's wing, throwing herself around and finally hitting the mountain floor with her claws leaving marks as she slid. Sah spat out a chunk of iron, ignoring the throb in her side where the undead's blade-like wing opened her side up like a junk letter. “Fuck it up!” Sahara demanded, the bird temporarily grounded.

((OoC - Sorry for the quality, I'm falling asleep writing this lol. Cincin bby, I can edit whatever you want if you'd like, take any stab at the Skarmory you want. ^^)

Something strange pulsed through Nikora. The Magmar thrashed in her grasp, making a guttural roar as Nikora crushed its throat further. Never before had the Growlithe experienced such a.. a rush! It was like adrenaline mixed with dopamine shoved inside a fatty piece of meat coated in marrow. This was even better then the hunt! Flames coated the Magmar's fist and it batted weakly at the hounds flank, but with her Flash Fire and attention completely on something else she didn't even notice. With the feeling edging her on Nikora bit harder until her jaw ached from effort. Trashing her head side to side the Magmar's weak, rotten flesh easily gave way but her fangs were lodged deep in the muscles. The hunt, the hunt!! The most intense part of the hunt was upon her. It was time. It was time!!

Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, the thick smell off rot and old pungent blood filling her muzzle and thoughts. Shifting her forepaws so one was on its shoulder and the other on the rounds of the fire type's head Nikora prepared for the killing bite. The flames of its head scorched her paw and heated her claws but the sensation only drove her further as she drug her claws across its face. DO IT. Tearing hard as she moved her head and body away the female ripped the dead flesh away and tore at the muscles in the massive hole she had created, think black and dark red blood oozing from the now exposed area.

For a moment the Magmar was still, as though it didn't know what was happening, then it lurched forward back onto its feet. Pure rage shone in its red eyes as it lunged at Nikora again, reaching out with savage claws. At the same time the Growlithe attacked, pushing off and once more sinking her fangs into the Magmar's bloody throat with a power-filled Bite. While it narrowly missed her eyes its claws did nail her, scoring long gashes down her cheek and slashing through her exposed organs on the way down. A chunk fell to the ground with the softest of splats.

Nikora did not notice. With the boost from Bite she crunched down as hard as possible, feeling the creatures throat collapse and the hard chunks of breaking bones. Digging her claws into its chest for support she pulled her head back, literally ripping its throat out and exposing the broken bones. The Magmar stumbled, making a noise resembling a hum or gasp, as it fell back, dead. Nikora was instantly on top of it, the thick taste of blood coating the hunk of meat in her jaws. Her stomach churned and she gulped it down hungrily before diving at the body again, tearing multiple pieces from the area she had started upon. She paused for only a moment to let out a successful howl. The note echoed on the cave walls. She had hunted and this was her kill. The feeling was still pulsing through her, a newfound strength like nothing she had ever experienced before, and she wasn't going to wait her turn. She would eat first; she was alpha now.


The Skarmory faltered but still managed to evade Sahara's next attack. Dammit all. They didn't have the fucking space to dodge an airborne enemy! “George?” His tail twitched and, not wanting to look away from the undead too long, he looked toward the Arcanine for only a moment. “Shall you be my comrade?” For a split second, he hesitates. Nikora is my only loyalty now. But there was a time and place for that. "Of course!" He barked, looking back at the bird to see it was attacking once more. Fucking hell! He knew better too! Luckily, Sahara was prepared jumped for it, snagging one wing in her jaws. George barked a few times, cheering her on. You got it! She grappled with it, George staying back as he didnt want grab at the wrong Pokemon, until it hit the ground screeching.

“Fuck it up!” They had Skarmory's back at home but they were always hunted as a pack. If they found one in the sky the strongest of the pack would spit fire at it until it hopefully fell. If one was on the ground, the preferred find, then the fastest of the pack would attack in a tag team, pinning the bird on its stomach to avoid the talons while someone grabbed at each wing and pinned the head. The wings! He told himself, recalling the fond memories. Without them its near defenseless. Leaping at the wing closest to him George used his body weight to keep it on the ground, careful to keep his paws on the dull silver edges and not the bladed red ones. He should of been biting at the wing joint but he doubted he had the strength needed to break or damage it efffectively. Its snapping beak, pointed teeth, and razor sharp crest were still a threat, the birds beady red eyes full of malice as it struggled beneath them. Swiftly, and unsure himself, George spat a hot stream of Ember's at the birds face, hopefully keeping it occupied and unable to attack him.

Oh God, things had gone absolutely crazy.

As soon as those things had attacked, everybody else had done the exact same in return. Sharpened rocks rip from the ground where Smith is, the Aggron bellowing a challenge at the undead. Sahara and the two Growlithe are bringing down a Skarmory, Embers scorching the bird's metal hide-though he technically has a Fire move to use against it, Maxwell has no desire to get in the way of two hunting dogs, especially not with how Nikora had originally reacted to him. I don't wanna be eaten, thank you! What can he do, though? He's practically-or maybe even literally-useless, unless he feels like getting snapped up and swallowed. There's so much stress running through his poor body that Maxwell finds himself using Agility without even meaning to, the speed boost coursing through his now-rapid wings. His mind darts from one situation to the next before it finally settles on one-the Bulbasaur taking on two undead alone. "Suck that!" Vincent shouts as he uses what looks like Grass Knot, causing the monsters he's fighting to crash to the ground. There was a huge type advantage there, but it was too dangerous to be alone; even now, the Rock-Ground Pokemon were starting to get up. Gathering what little courage he has, Maxwell flies over to the scene, adrenaline and Agility fueling him forward.

"Hey, Vince! I got your back!" Maxwell calls out to the Bulbasaur before pelting the undead Graveler and Rhyhorn with Ember, trying to avoid hitting the blades of grass with his flames. While Ember wouldn't do much, if anything at all, it's the only move he has that doesn't involve breaking his beak against that tough armor. If only they weren't Rock-types, then he could throw a few Sword Dances and then spam the hell out of Peck...Sweet Jirachi and Azelf, if only I was a Talonflame already! Apparently he was good for something, because the Graveler was now struggling to turn to face him. Too bad for it, he was fast and airborne; that thing was clumsy and a rock. Here was a chance for another Grass Knot-all Maxwell has to do is keep the two undeads' attention kept towards him. That's easy enough, Maxwell thinks as he fires more Embers at them, his throat beginning to become irritated with each use of the move. That wasn't a good sign; he couldn't keep up the barrage forever. We've gotta end this fast. Lucky him, he has a Grass-type on his side, and surely with a quadruple weakness these two freaks couldn't last much longer.

[ooc: I'm really sorry for the low-quality post. I've been having trouble writing for this character, ironically enough.
Also, Vince, I hope you don't mind me having the undead turn to Maxwell. I can edit that differently if you'd like.]

Arceus... FUCKING damn it.
Harley could barely keep up with his own paws scuffing the ground in front of each other, his torso twisting around violently to attack the huge undead Rhyhorn charging up behind him. His breathing was also getting out of hand. Gee, he thought he may actually like running if it didn't require so much air. And, you know, when you're not being chased by a 250 pound pile of rock.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!!" he hushedly screamed as he continues throwing Flame Bursts back at it in attempt to make it flinch enough to slow down -- because the fucking hulk of a lizard was just about gaining enough to bite the Simisear's tail off.

"Good fucking lord! Can you back off already?!" he yells in vain at the Rhyhorn as if it could comprehend him, and that didn't slow the horned boulder either. But then, the cave walls quaked practically enough to pinball him down the hallway.

"RrrrrrrrrAAAAAAARGH COME ON THEN! WHO WANTS TO DIE NEXT?!" A deep, booming scottish voice resounds through the hall, and Harley would have stopped dead in his damn tracks from all the bricks he would have shat if there wasn't a living incarnate of something of similar nature behind him.

Well, there was no choice. Either way, he'd be fucked sideways -- well possibly not one way. And the chance of that was good enough for him to not jump over the thing and run the other way. Arceus knows that if one is running after you there's probably an entire group ready to gangbang you if you so much as stay to fight. Harley continued hyperventilating as he comes running, into a larger chamber space, where -- oh fucking damn it, there was no end to the chaos. He should have jumped back the other way before he was officially a steak on legs. He trips forward with a yelp, leaning to catch himself but ends up barreling on the ground... right through the legs of undead, oh, to the center area where there seemed to be living Pokemon? It was blurry through his horizontal rolling, but he could tell they weren't slobbering idiots like most undead-- Other living Pokemon?-- OH NO NO NOT BACK TOWARDS THE ZOMBIES--

He managed to roll over his shoulder and back onto his feet, enough to avoid a steel-enforced tail slamming the ground milliseconds after he moved. He forgot to scream at that, or maybe his own lungs didn't allow him. In panicked but quick retaliation, his fist reddens with energy from Brick Break and he lands an upper cut punch directly to the Rhyhorn's side, making it fly backwards enough to skid on it's feet for a few yards. Harley pants, looking back and seeing the other Pokemon - who were for sure alive and talking and kicking - clobbering the four other undead. Jeez, he didn't mean to lead that turd with legs here either to add more gore and guts to their stand off. For a second, he does nothing but observe the crumbling situation around him like a twit. He groans in his anxiety to address the others, but manages at least something.

"Hey, sorry to crash your party here-- but I swear, I'm not infected, don't come after me!" He wanted to at least make sure his own ass was being kept out of the fire and still in the frying pan. "How about I just help you fight off these guys, then I can introduce myself better - I'm Harley! Good to meet you, nice knowing you." he puts a little more cooly, but still not losing the attitude enough to keep from sounding like an utter bastard.

He swings around, just in time to attempt another punch at the Rhydon coming right back at him. Nope, he ended up having to jump to the side, and missing the lizard completely. Sliding on the ball of his foot, he did manage to leap on the back of the thing. Whew, this was turning into a rodeo, with him on this Rhydon and that snarling Growlithe hanging off the steel bird's wing. But unfortunately, a rodeo would be far less dangerous. He grabs one of it's rock ears and punches the hell out of it's face with Brick Break, enraging it far enough to start twirling around like a dog chasing it's tail. But, well, it was chasing Harley's tail ... more like his entire body. Admittedly, it made him have to put up a good fight back just to keep on it. "Whew, you're a stupid one." the creature keeps spinning as he puts his hand flat on it's head, releasing a Flame Burst right onto it's skull.

[OoC: Oh don't mind him, just being a complete and utter informal idiot. lol Either way, glad to be here, enjoy my stupid fire monkey. |D]

So much was going on all at once, Jude had no idea where to start. Everything had just erupted into a cacophony of noise and mayhem, attacks flying this way and that. The Zoroark skittered around in panicked circles, trying to figure out what he could do. The three fire hounds were taking out the Skarmory, and Vincent and Maxwell were dealing with the two Rock-types. Wait ... hadn't there been four of them?

The Magmar. The damned Magmar. In all the chaos it had slipped out of sight and was staring at Jude from behind a rock, seizing him up with those blazing red eyes. Jude had no time to react; it was already charging at him, orange flames spiraling around its body as it prepared an attack. So much for 'helping'...

Just when Jude was certain he was about to die, the huge, armoured shape of what could only be Smith thundered into view. The Aggron threw back his fist and delivered a punch of near decapitory force to the Magmar's head. It flew backwards, slamming into the stone wall and lying still, dark blood oozing out of its nose and mouth.

"Get a grip, lad," Smith snarled, his strong hand grabbing Jude's mane and pulling him into a standing position. "Yer call that fightin'? Yer need to put in yer all or else more of us will die. Got it?"

"G-Got it," Jude huffed, and he was about to splutter out a thank you to Smith but the Aggron had already charged back into battle. Good grief, if his heart pounded any quicker he was sure it was just give up. But Smith was right ... he couldn't be afraid anymore now that he had friends to protect. He had to stop relying on others to fight his battles for him. The only way to get better at fighting was to practice ... It was just the same as when he was in the Centre Ring, performing his tricks, jumps and illusions to please the crowd, and practicing with his trainers on a daily basis ... except this time he wasn't up against families and children, but a bunch of undead killing machines. Not much difference, right...?

He was just about pulling himself back together when an orange shape came speeding towards them, with a very big, very angry Rhydon on his tail. "Hey, sorry to crash your party here-- but I swear, I'm not infected, don't come after me!" Jude blinked at the newcomer, surprised he was even attempting conversation with a massive undead brute breathing down his neck. "How about I just help you fight off these guys, then I can introduce myself better - I'm Harley! Good to meet you, nice knowing you."

Legends, he was brave. Clambering on top of the Rhydon's back to attack it ... Jude couldn't imagine even being within a foot of an infected and not freaking out. This guy must've been strong ... or just really reckless. Jude didn't know, but he figured it was about time he started being useful. The other undead were being dealt with, and he would be surprised if the Magmar survived getting its skull hit as hard as it had...

Steeling what little courage he had, Jude sped forward, his front claws emanating a dark aura. You can do it... Just hit the damn thing, jump back, and then hit it again. He knew that he was fast, his species' lithe form giving him the advantage over the lumbering giant. As long as he could get enough attacks in, and hope that the Simisear didn't get himself killed, the beast would eventually fall.

He leapt at the Rhydon's belly, striking it with a Night Slash. Jumping back from the recoil, he watched to see its effects.