The CANALAVE Team

Courtney remained silent the whole time. As she watched Namdnas speak to Jerome in a joking manner, she saw that it made him angry. She took a half step back in fear of him, not wanting to anger him further. 'Why is he so stern?' The Pawniard had no idea why he was this troubled all the time, and it made her worry about him a bit.

She didn't have much time to think about it, though, as a swarm of infected Combee suddenly rushed them. As they were doing a Gust attack, Courtney crouched down and planted her hand blades in the ground so she didn't go flying. The wind was making it very hard for her to see what was going on. She nearly gagged at the next sight; an undead Vespiqueen.

"I'll deal with this!" Jerome called out. Courtney watched as her shiny evolved form sliced through the swarm. Something caught her attention, though. The Vespiqueen had circled around and was closing in on Jerome with an Air Slash attack. "Jerome! Look out!" Courtney said. Without hesitating, she ran up to the Vespiqueen and attacked it with Aerial Ace. Both of their hits connected. The Vespiqueen was down, but Courtney was now cut on the side of her body.

Courtney was out of breath from that attack as she put the dull part of her hands to the side of the wound to try to stop the bleeding. The Pawniard felt stronger from the attack on the undead. She began to black out from the injury. As she did, she hoped that her evolved form would finish off the rest.

(OoC: Courtney's gonna be out for a little bit. Anyone has permission to carry her, if needed.)

Most of the Combee were going down with just one or two hits; seeing as they were generally weak Pokemon, Jerome was not surprised. With one final Night Slash he vertically sliced the last Combee in half and its bloodied remains fell to the ground with a sickening splat. He wasted no time in catching his breath, however; the more powerful Vespiquen still remained.

Quickly wheeling round to try and pinpoint the Bug-type's position, Jerome gasped as he saw her speeding straight towards him. Not having any time to effectively plan out an attack, Jerome opted to merely leap backwards and hope that she'd simply crash into the ground, but Courtney's voice halted him. "Jerome! Look out!" With a jolt of fear, Jerome watched as the little Pawniard dashed forward and intercepted the bug's attack with a move that looked like Aerial Ace. The Vespiquen screeched and was hurled backwards, hitting a nearby tree. Courtney bled from a gash in her side and stumbled, her eyes flickering.

Taking the opportunity, Jerome rushed over and placed a hand onto her head. Before he could speak, however, the bug was back up, her red eyes fueled with an indescribable, venomous rage. Screaming in fury, she darted straight towards them. Not moving from Courtney's side, Jerome stood firm and lowered his head. At the last moment, he rammed it forward. He felt hot blood drizzle its way down his head blade as it stabbed its way into the Vespiquen's stomach. As she shrieked in agony, Jerome hurled her to the side, watching her land onto the grass on her back.

Feeling a vengeance was in order, Jerome proceeded to deliver one Slash attack to her face after another. Very quickly her face started to resemble a bloodied mess of mashed up flesh coated with blood. The Bug-type screeched and screamed, flailing her arms wildly and delivering her own Slash attacks to his exposed belly. Ignoring the pain, Jerome continued to hack and slash until her movements started to become more strained. Eventually her arms dropped to the blood-stained ground with a thud, and she lay twitching in the remnants of her own face.

Jerome stood up, covered in both the Vespiquen's blood and his own, and spat down on whatever remained of the enemy's face. "That was for hurting my friends," he stated coldly, turning round and limping over to Courtney. The wounds on his stomach hurt and dripped with blood, but he was confident that his hard armour had absorbed most of the damage. Kneeling beside the Pawniard, he gently placed his hand on her side - the one that wasn't wounded - and shook her. "Courtney? Courtney, speak to me!" he begged, looking round desperately for any berry bushes. Finding none, he simply stayed beside her, hoping that the warmth from his body would help her to arise.

(Skip. Courtney is still kinda out. And sure, you can bring the Vespiquen back.)

Courtney did not move an inch apart from her slow, steady breathing. Feeling rather panicked, Jerome picked her up and carried her closer to the shoreline. Placing her down and resting her head on a rock, he quickly began to search the sand for anything of use. Eventually, he came across a large shell.

Carrying it back to the Pawniard, he filled it up with water and poured it gently over her wound. "Come on, Courtney. It's all right now. You can wake up." Through his usually gruff, blunt voice surfaced genuine concern. Wow ... it's been a while. Briefly looking round and not catching sight of Namdnas, Jerome growled to himself as he refilled the shell with water and continued to clean the wound. Where the hell is he?

Courtney could feel the cold water hitting where the wound was. As she slowly stirred awake, she heard Jerome's voice. "Come on, Courtney. It's all right now. You can wake up." She slowly opened her eyes and saw that she was moved closer to the shoreline. "J-Jerome?" She asked him, her voice quieter than usual. "Wh-What happened?" She saw that he was covered in blood, but that wasn't what worried Courtney. What worried her was that the Vespiquen was getting up. "Jerome. The Vespiquen..." She said to her evolved form.

(Short post is short as well...)

Relief flooded Jerome's steel heart as Courtney stirred in his arms and slowly opened her eyes. "J-Jerome? Wh-What happened?" the little Pawniard asked. He saw her glance off to the side. "Jerome. The Vespiquen..."

"She's dead. I killed her," came the Bisharp's reply as he emptied the shell once again. "Stay there." As he got up to refill it, a familiar screech from behind him forced him to whirl round on the spot, his bladed arm raised instinctively. As soon as he saw her, he slashed his blade to the side. It collided with the crazed Bug-type's neck and her head was severed from her shoulders. Blood spurted everywhere as her lifeless body toppled to the floor, her decayed wings flickering uselessly as the last echoes of life escaped her.

"Now she's dead," Jerome said, a slight chuckle of relief forcing its way out of his throat as he refilled the shell and knelt back down beside her. Glancing down at himself while he cleansed her wound, he realised that he looked an incredible mess, with both his own blood and the Vespiquen's staining his head, arms and torso. "Just rest for now. Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

"She's dead. I killed her," When Jerome saw he was wrong, he cut the undead's head off. "Now she's dead," Courtney looked at him as he stayed by her side and continued to clean her wound. "Just rest for now. Don't worry about me. I'm fine." As much as the Pawniard wanted to worry, she realized that putting others before herself in this situation may end up being the death of her. "Okay." Before she closed her eyes, she looked up at Jerome and said. "Thank you, Jerome."

His dark gaseous form swirling apart from the force of the attack the ethereal Haunter is blown away from the battle with the Vespiquen, ending up closer to the gouged honey tree. As he tries to circle around more of the Combee, called by the pheromones of the Undead Vespiquen start to swarm around him.
Courtney and Jerome are too far away to call for help but somehow the Haunter wouldn't have called them even if they could aid him. It was not their responsibility to look after him, it was his to finish this as soon as possible and take care of them.
There was still some life left in his old windbag.
Ignoring the blade of pain that suddenly slices through him from the action the Haunter ignites the wisps of gas generated by his spirit form until his three clawed fists start to glow red then burst into an unnatural blue-green flames, the flickering fire growing larger and larger until it is a blazing comet of heat flickering around his fist.
More and more of his body breaks off and dissolves into wisps of dark purple poison as the flames close to his body increases the rate the infection causes his Ghost body to fade into non-existence.
His ghostly mouth curls up at the edges, the wispy shapes of his fangs seeming longer and more menacing as the center of his mouth is fully revealed. It is the deep dark purple of the progressing infection.
Turning on the faintest wisp of air, more the master of the wind than the clumsy bugs that try to stand against him.
Their wings burst into flame as he passes them by, the blaze of his three clawed fingers gashing their frail insectile bodies with his fist of fire and their charred bodies fall to the ground.
His old blood is getting stirred up, back from when he was one of the most feared fighting forces in the League.
His bright red eye open wide with happiness as he extinguishes his fists to grab a fluttering Combee from the air and opens wide his jaws, wider than any mortal would thing possible.
The bug type frantically whirs its tiny wings in an attempt to break loose and he sees the tiny tears welling out of its eyes before he realizes the Combee has no signs of infection anywhere on its body. It just wants the sweet tree sap.
Clutching his aching head Namdnas releases the Bug and it swiftly buzzes away.
The stinging pain of his increasing head wound as most of his left slide sloughs away into oblivion is not what causes the aged Haunter to hold his head in his clawed hands and silently begin to weep.
"This must stop..." He whispers to himself.

((OOC: Not sure if it would be o.k. for Namdnas to have a little private scrap on the side while Courtney and Jerome took down the 'Swarm leader' but I really wanted his 25th post to be action-packed ^^;))

"Thank you, Jerome," Courtney murmured softly as she closed her eyes and rested her head back on the rock. Jerome felt a little uneasy to see her close her eyes again so soon, but as he watched the Pawniard's chest slowly rise and fall at a steady rate, he started to believe that she wasn't in danger. Still, he didn't know how this virus spread and decided to continue to clean the wound as much as he could. That little 'thank you' had given his heartstrings a quick tug; it wasn't very often anybody thanked him. But then I've never looked out for anyone other than myself...

Getting up for the forth time to refill the shell, Jerome spotted Namdnas in the distance. Judging by the carnage around him there had clearly been more to the bug swarm than he had thought. Jerome blinked; had Namdnas taken them all on by himself? Raising his arm into a quick wave, Jerome called, "We're over here!" He would've approached the Ghost-type to see what was wrong - he looked clearly upset - but he didn't want to leave Courtney's side for the time being.

(Rather than hold up the team until I get to the library again, I'll just do this now. Skip me, Courtney is just resting.)

The wisps of deep purple poison swirl sorrowfully inside him. The cost of his destruction of the swarm shows plainly on his face; now the rent of slowly evaporating flesh is too large to be covered by the patch of dark reaper cloth. Most of his side has been completely consumed, down to the now frayed edges of his mouth.
His hand too has taken some of the force of the blow. His fingers have become thinner as the spirit has been sapped from them by the disease. Nothing he can do can get it to return. Next time he uses a move the hand might disappear for good.
Balefully the Ghost/Poison type surveys his surroundings.
The strength of his fiery fists has left behind little more that a few lumps of charred gristle scattered around him. The most he can see of the shape of a Combee in the remains is an occasional patch of unseared yellow-gold skin of a few fragments of wing.
Had they all been undead?
He hadn't stopped to check, he hadn't stopped at all until that one had started to cry and he realized something was wrong.
The infection had sunken deeper into him and started effecting his thought patterns. Soon he would have to deal with what he had almost done...
But he had stopped.
A spark of hope ignites in him. It would be hard but if he avoided fighting and concentrated hard maybe he could defeat his urges. He could learn to control himself.

Looking up Namdnas forced himself to smile, the effect now slightly lopsided due to his rapid evaporation.
As soon as he got to Jubilife City he would try to evolve. Even if it didn't restore his missing flesh it might aid in slowing down the spread of the disease.
He hovers over to the others, trying to keep his brief expression of remorse from showing on his face. It was quickly replaced with genuine concern when he sees Courtney's injury.
"How did this happen?" He asked Jerome, worried the little Pawniard had been bitten or clawed.

"How did this happen?" Namdnas gasped as he reached them and saw Courtney's state. Jerome maintained a calm, steady expression as he knelt back down beside her and continued to clean the wound. "The queen of the swarm attacked us, and Courtney ... she..." Pausing and widening his eyes at the realisation that she could've just saved his life, he swallowed before continuing. "She intercepted the Air Slash and got hit. She should be all right though." He rose and wandered to the water to fill up the shell one last time. "The wound is clean now. She just needs to rest."

When he had finished, he tossed the shell aside and waded into the water until he was waist-deep. Cupping the cool liquid into his hands, he started to wash the blood off of him as quickly as he could. The Vespiquen's sticky, purple blood was harder to get off and he found standing in the water for several minutes until it was all off. Sighing at the sight of the contaminated water, he quickly waded back out. "We can't drink here anymore. We should look out for somewhere else along the way."

"Not only that, but we should press on," he continued, glancing down at Courtney. "We can't waste any time. It's dangerous here. I will carry her." Kneeling down beside his pre-evolved form, he gently placed one hand under her head and secured her legs with the other, and lifted her off the ground. With Courtney cradled in his arms like a baby, he marched off towards the trees, looking up at the tall, hazy structures in the distance. "Come on. If we hurry we can make it there before midday."

(Skip. Courtney is pretty much asleep at this point.)

The Haunter breathes an audible sigh of relief. It was impossible to contract the disease from a blade of wind as far as he knew. Courtney would not suffer the infection and the wound was not so deep as to be fatal. They would be able to get to Jubilife city and repair her wound swiftly.
The Ghost grimaces at the sight of the dark purple blood contaminating the water.
No doubt the main source of drinking water for many of the pokemon of the forest anything that drinks from it may find itself unwillingly infected.
As Jerome scoops up the passed out Pawniard Namdnas flicks his ethereal tail to look over her.
He wasn't doing a very good job at keeping her safe...that too would have to change.
Despite the winds being against him the Poison/Ghost manages to pull himself level to the blue bisharp's long strides, focusing his red eye on the haze on the horizon of the indistinct buildings.
"Let us move swiftly then."

As he walked on, Jerome started to think of the battle that they had just endured. He started to wonder how he would feel if either Courtney or Namdnas had perished during the fight; whether he would just treat it as just an unfortunate occurrence that nothing could be done about, or whether he would feel true remorse and sorrow. Having been alone for most of his life, he didn't know how to judge relationships as they were; he knew that he and Courtney had a tie between them of some sort but couldn't figure out just how tight that tie was. Although he didn't feel as close to Namdnas he appreciated the ghost's kindness and would've surely felt something if he had been defeated in battle. But by the looks of him, Jerome stole a glance at the Haunter as he caught up, he hasn't got much longer left anyway...

Remembering when he had snapped at the kind old ghost just minutes earlier, Jerome suddenly felt guilty. If either of them had lost the battle then they would've parted with one another on bad terms. I've had enough of that for one life. Holding the sleeping Courtney close to him, he sighed and, feeling his pride clinging onto him for dear life, said to Namdnas: "I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier."

(Skip. STILL ASLEEP. Courtney is already tired.)

Focusing entirely on not floating away on the breeze that stirs his ethereal form uncomfortably and the strangely numb sensation of his left side the Haunter blinks in surprise at the Bisharp's apology. While he certainly hadn't meant to antagonize the large Steel Type earlier he had thought they had reached an unspoken agreement it was going to be simply forgive and forget.
"It was nothing, you've obviously been through a lot and I didn't mean to insult you by suggesting you haven't." The old Ghost says as he turns his evaporating face towards Jerome.
"Still it means a lot to say that. Thank you."
The Haunter's face breaks into a warm genuine smile.
The forest floor moving in a dust colored blur beneath his soaring form Namdnas takes another look at Courtney. Still asleep and little wonder but the wound seems deeper than the last time he checked.
The buildings are still just an indistinct haze in the distance.
Blinking his red eye and trying to avoid compulsively checking on the little injured Pawniard the Haunter picks up the faint trickling sound of running water.
A fresh water stream was do doubt making its way through the trees. Although he did not feel thirsty in the way that other pokemon did the Haunter knows that after so much physical exertion not drinking will be a bad idea for Jerome and besides once the stream widens out somewhere ahead they can wash Courtney's wound again.
"I hear running water." He tells the Bisharp.

"It was nothing, you've obviously been through a lot and I didn't mean to insult you by suggesting you haven't," Namdnas replied as he floated alongside Jerome gently. The swirling vapours that made up the Haunter's ethereal form were strangely calming to the Bisharp ... provided he kept his gaze away from Namdnas's decaying face. The story that the ghost had told them earlier still weighed heavily on his mind, but he decided not to think of it right now. "Still it means a lot to say that," the Haunter continued. "Thank you."

Jerome said nothing as he walked on with Courtney still cradled in his arms, giving Namdnas a mere nod. After a few minutes, the ghost stopped and told him that he could hear running water. Stopping in his tracks, Jerome listened and heard it as well. It was music to his ears; the battle had left him feeling thirsty again and it was relieving to know that there was more water around after he had inadvertently contaminated the main water source on this route.

"Let's stop by for a moment." Following the water's gentle song, he eventually came across a small, shallow stream. Laying Courtney down on the grass, resting her head against a tree stump, he collected a large leaf off the ground, filled it with water and held it towards the Pawniard's mouth. You are last priority for once ... doesn't feel so bad.

Courtney's energy was being restored into her as she was resting. She could feel Jerome carrying her, since it was solid as opposed to Namdnas' whispy hands. She could hear the conversation between them, Jerome apologizing to the Haunter for snapping at him. But one sound stood out to her; running water. As she was set down, the sound grew louder. The Pawniard opened her eyes to see that her evolved form was offering her water to drink. "Thank you." She to the Bisharp as she drank from the leaf. She looked over at the Haunter and gave a light gasp. He was much worse than before. His whole side was almost gone, and it looked like the rest of him could fade away at any moment. She tried not to think about it, but it was very hard to. Namdnas treated Courtney with kindness. What would happen to her if he was gone? She countinued drinking from the leaf to let the thought leave her head.

The soft sound of the Pawniard's voice makes the Haunter smile.
"Ah you're up!" The Haunter says cheerfully, floating closer to get a good look at Courtney. The small Pawniard still seemed very weak but at least she was awake now and, importantly, keeping her fluids up.
"Jubilife is coming up soon and we can get you all fixed up." He tells her encouragingly, his gaseous form swirling in mid-air.
His clawed hands, one now smaller and thinner than the other, clutch at each other in an obvious gesture of worry. Genuinely the Ghost had thought there was a chance Courtney might not wake up.
The cloth clutches beween his hands he nervously dips in the clear water and wrings out.
With care he daps the Pawniard's forehead with the damp cloth to keep her cool and smiles again widely to be encouraging.
A few wisps of gas breaking off from his form doesn't worry him anymore. All his attention is on Courtney.

Jerome placed the empty leaf back on the ground and watched in thoughtful silence as Namdnas used his strange cloth to cool Courtney's forehead. The three of them sticking together through this almost apocalyptic world, helping and supporting one another even though, really, they had only known each other for a short amount of time ... situations like these were completely alien to the solitary Bisharp. His cold heart was warming up at a steady pace; opening up a little bit more at every moment like this. Is this what it's like to have a loving family?

"What is that?" he asked the Ghost-type, gesturing to the black cloth in his hand. Not only did he want to set a good impression by being the first to break the tension, but he genuinely was interested in the little cloth. Was he keeping it only for sentimental reasons, or did he need it for more strategic purpose?

(Skip. Can't really think of what to say at the moment...)

"This?" The Haunter says in surprise, holding up the moistened twist of near black cloth.
He had held it for so long he spared no concious thought to it any longer.
It had just seamlessly become a part of him, a precious gift he would never think of discarding.
Would Jerome too be disturbed by the strange powers it possessed?
"They call it a Reaper Cloth, it has...aura"
The Poison/Ghost smoothes it over with his claws, feeling the tingle of ethereal energy that flowed from it vibrate in time with the invisible spirit of his body that held together the wisps of his gases.
It was full of a strange kind of energy, the kind of energy nearly otherworldly that would spark the strengthening process called evolution in another kind of dark type.
He knew from experience few other pokemon appreciated or understood the energy the Reaper Cloth gave. If they could feel it at all often it disturbed them but for so long he had been merely utilizing the patch of cloth in whatever way seemed useful to him he had started to forget its other properties.
"It causes evolution in Dusclops but most pokemon don't particularly like it." The Haunter says with an embarassed grin, unable to think of what else he could say about it.
"It was a gift from my trainer."

"This? They call it a Reaper Cloth, it has...aura." Jerome frowned, slightly annoyed that Namdnas was being so vague. What if that cloth had sinister properties that could cause either himself or Courtney harm? He scowled at the black rag in the ghost's hand, suddenly feeling apprehensive of it. "It causes evolution in Dusclops but most pokemon don't particularly like it. It was a gift from my trainer." Jerome nodded slowly, still not taking his hard gaze away from the cloth.

"Is there a reason why most Pokemon dislike it?" he asked harshly, obtaining a large leaf from a tree and starting to wash it in the clean water. "Is it dangerous?" He knelt down and started to wrap the leaf around Courtney's torso.

(Skip. I don't know what I could have Courtney do.)