The ABANDONED Team

This team is on HOLD until the Harb attack has been fufilled. Do NOT post.

"Wet... So, so very wet..."
"Shut up!! Your whining is pissing me off!"
"But... water... it makes my scales stick to skin..."
"Shut up you whore!"
The scrafty was not in any place like the deserts of Unova she could recall, only pale glimpses that seem to span much too many lifetimes to reach her hazy mind. Eyes all too colorful and bright in the night and faded air, the shinning color of blood was a sure warning to all and any who might be unreasonable enough to cross her. Body coated with infectious puss and gore, the Harbinger's stomach had sunken in. Thinner than any starving corpse, she almost looked weak and frail.
Her expression changed constantly, almost like the switch of light. Gaze low and almost mournful when speaking in a dull tone, she seemed harmless as ever with her sarrow.
But wrathful light shines within her when pulling the hood of dead skin cells over herself, screaming with the tone of a banchee. Her curse words echoed through the air and across the hull of the boat.

Walking along the top part of the human made thing, the deck, her eyes dimmed as she pulled the hood back to show her vulnerable side. "Oh how I hate... the death..." Before the other personality could screm at her counterpart's words, there was movement ahead.
What captured her attention was the duo of felines. One, the ebony creature with gold markings, was an umbreon. It was climbing onto the deck, seeming to have a companion with it. "Die, dumb bastard," she muttered darkly as the scrafty walked right up to the two. Her face become muted once more, the glazed eyes sliding over the strange cat; it stood upright, most fur missing from its body. Scrafty bristled, turned off by its repulsive appearance.
She leaned in close to this one, gaining his attention. The cat haulted in his frenzied gesture and looked at her in a mixture of unease and shock. At a glance, the Harbinger did not look dangerous. No, in the state of sarrow, she was not trully dangerous. But her outward appearance of ghastly mistreatment and multiple wounds would put anyone in an unsure state of fear.

"You... you are so... ugly... How do you... cope?"
It was an honest question. In the state of reserved emotion, the scrafty knew not how such a vile looking Pokemon could be content. She would have done something long ago, if been in his shoes. But the feline took offence, almost instantly setting off insults at an alarmingly loud voice. The Harbinger recoiled, flinching from the volume. "Please. Be quiet... You will anger her..." She begged, voice barely louder than a breath. But the meowth paid no heed.
The Harbinger stepped back, her grimace looking close to that of pain.
"Shut your trap, fool!!"
"I warned... you...

The scrafty moved too fast to be seen. Her posture had appeared as frail, unsure, just seconds ago. Crouched over and eyeing the ground, the change was instantanious. Her arm shot out in a blur, the meowth coughing up blood before she was done moving. Still hunched over, Scrafty embedded her right hand expertly into the chest of the meowth. She smirked, eyes too bright and grin too crimson as she stared into his horror filled eyes. "Big guy aren't you, bitch?"
Ripping her arm back, she was left with a meaty mass of flesh in her paw. Blood flowed freely from the wound now in the cat's chest, and red swam down the Harbinger's arm as she regaurded the mushed lung she held. As he coughed, more of his insides coming out of his jaws, Scraftly casually plopped the organ into her reptilian mouth. Grinning evily, she took great pleasure in the horror of the umbreon as the cat fell to his knees while she sucked the juices from his lung.

"Oh no; we can't have that!"

Voice almost playful, the scrafty snatched him up. Her hand wrapped tightly around his neck, she was pleased with how his limbs still flailed as he was above the ground, his blood still flowing freely and gorging itself over the harbinger's arm. With no warning, she flicked her wrist and a loud, audible snap rang through the air. The cat's eyes went dark, head falling to one side as his neck was snapped.
"Look! At least now we have a meal, you stupid harlot!"
"I am alergic... to cats..."
"Shut the fuck up!"
Gleefully talking to herself, the Harbinger merely turned and walked away. A trail of crimson followed in her wake as she dragged the meowth along the deck of the ship.

"No!!" The voice was so close, yet so far. The splashing of the waves draining sound from his ears as the firm claws gripped him, hauling him upwards. "...I'm not going to let you die, Tyrone. I've let too many of my friends die today. We're going to figure out a way to get out of here... right?" The Bagon shuddered, his half-lidded eyes overflowing from tears as he sobbed. "W-we... gotta try..." he stuttered, the cold of the seas still latched onto him.

It wasn't long before he slide off Lize's back, his near-frozen form shivering on the wood of the deck as he straightened, his skin almost completely pale as he struggled to move his limbs. "Do you think... you can get yourself to the top deck from here?" He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream at the Breloom that he wasn't going to make it and that it was all over for them, there was no hope. Instead his body forced a numb nod, obeying the grass-type's orders as he slowly, clumsily ascended the ladders to the top deck.

"YOU TWO! OVER HERE!" It was the voice of that odd cat, again, as he poked his head out onto the deck. He saw the frantic figure of the feline at the other end, waving. Suddenly, the sound of harsh words and cursing echoed through the halls, and Tyrone struggled to swiftly get up, fearing what might have arrived. A new figure had appeared, scrawny and frail, and was headed straight towards Hermes. The Bagon attempted to move, worried about who this newcomer was, but his body refused to take action as he stood rooted to the ground.

He had watched through the whole scene, his eyes wide and body shuddering as the Scrafty came as quickly as it went, leaving the trail of blood behind it. Tyrone weeped, and although he didn't know the Meowth, there had already been enough farewells. The top deck was now simply pooled with blood, the thick liquid only slightly diluted by the salt water as more undead began to rise, attracted to the smell. The dragon looked hopelessly over to his final companion, Lize, eyes tinted with red from his tears but a smile on his face.

"Let's not go down without a fight."

[nopenopenope, can't post right now, and don't want to be too late since school tomorrow! Skip this turn please. xux Hard decisions being made, buh.]

[OOC: Skip, Tyrone's just getting ready to fight. |D]

The Breloom watched the Bagon worriedly, wondering if the water had drained more of his energy than she had originally thought. It would be troublesome to have Tyrone be sick now, out of all times. And even more troublesome to have him die. But he managed to scramble up the last set of ladders, pulling out a relieved sigh from Liselotte's throat. At least he was still well enough to move. The Breloom quickly followed Tyrone, clambering after him back above deck where it was just as chaotic as when it was when she left it, if not even more.

As soon as the Breloom managed to haul herself back up on deck, someone seemed to notice the duo and called out. Probably one of those suckers from earlier that she had left to go save Tyrone; and sure enough, it was that one, weird-looking Meowth from earlier. The one with half of his fur ripped off. There was also that one Umbreon. But there was no sight of the Rufflet. Nor of Torch and Kippy. They were climbing up the ship and Liselotte watched them go, distracted between watching the duo and checking in on how Tyrone was doing, when she realized how quiet it was.

Where did all the Undead go?

The loud screeching and cursing made Liselotte jump. She looked around, expecting to see yet another survivor, as the voice was a feminine one and as far as she knew, Liselotte was the only female left on the ship. Her eyes locked in on the sight of a Scrafty making her way across the ship, and the Breloom vaguely wondered if it was that Scrafty from earlier, the one who called herself Amy or some other name. Liselotte hadn't seen much of that 'Amy' girl, but she did remember there was a female Scrafty on the boat before. Perhaps this was her?

Being so far away, Lize couldn't see the details of how mangled and distorted the Scrafty was. Instead, she waved out a clawed hand, happy to know that one of the old teammates were still alive. That would be great! "Hey, Amy!" she called out, unaware that the Scrafty was not Amy, but rather a different one, and an Undead. The Breloom watched the Scrafty go up right to the Meowth [who was already screaming and cussing at the dark/fighting-type; how rude!] and Umbreon duo, thinking that with so many survivors together, they could survive. That they had a chance.

Then the Scrafty put her hand through the Meowth's chest.

Liselotte watched with widening eyes and a dropping jaw as the Scrafty abruptly ripped out something small from the cat's chest, holding it in her hands. She could only flinch, but not able to look away, as the Meowth fell and the Harbinger ate the organ. She just ate the fucking organ! Had Amy fallen into the grasps of infection while she was away? But she had only been gone for less than a day. When Liselotte saw Amy earlier, she was perfectly fine and healthy. This was impossible. This shouldn't happen. "What the fuck are you doing?!" she screeched, though she knew it was pointless to screech such things at the Scrafty whether she was an Undead or simply a murderer. The Scrafty immediately began to drag the dead Meowth away from the deck, leaving a bright trail of blood. With the Scrafty turned around, Liselotte got a look at her face and couldn't help but cringe. Was this really the same Scrafty?

"Oh Arceus. Tyrone, we have to find a way to get out of here. We can't stay on this ship -- it'll sink in a matter of minutes! We can't die, not here, not now... My trainer died and let me live! I can't, I can't just give it up all for nothi..." She trailed off as a shadow stretched overhead, blocking the last rays of dusk light and surrounding Liselotte with shade. The Breloom, eyes still wide, began to turn around and saw a flash of dark, brown feathers. Then she felt a sudden, sharp pain.

A sharp set of claws pinned her body down, and she felt something cut into her neck. She saw herself apparently fly into the air -- but how could that be? Her body was still there on the ground. Everything was moving so fast yet slow, and yet, over everything, all she could hear was the sound of flapping wings and the brief, biting cold of something sharp on her neck. And then the Breloom's eyes went blank and dull, the fiery light dying, the Fearow flying up to higher on the deck to hold down the head of Liselotte.

With a loud screech, the Undead bird began to peck, feasting on its new, fresh, small meal.

[25th and last post. ;w; asdf It was sorta hard making this decision to kill off Liselotte. Well, Abandoned was fun while I was in it. u_u]

"Oh Arceus. Tyrone, we have to find a way to get out of here. We can't stay on this ship -- it'll sink in a matter of minutes! We can't die, not here, not now... My trainer died and let me live! I can't, I can't just give it up all for nothi..." Tyrone gazed at the Breloom, about to reply when he too, caught the shadow. Eyes wide with fear, he reached out with a shivering hand to grab her, to save the only friend he had left. "Lize--!!"

He was too late.

Oh how he hated birds. As the talons sunk into her flesh, the massive Fearow pinned the fighting-type down before utilizing it's beak to feast upon her carcass. The Bagon was sobbing, a long, painful wail released from his throat as he clutched his head in his claws. "H-How..." he whimpered, shuffling backwards. "H-how can this be? Wh-why?" the avian was already flying off, taking his companion's head as it's new trophy and meal.

Distraught and horrified, the poor dragon didn't realize how close he was the to the edge of the ship, and with one last step, felt the rotting wood beneath him vanish as he plummeted into the sea. The Bagon screeched in agony as he entered the water, the cold stinging his scales as he felt his consciousness slip away. The waves had claimed him, the freezing liquid wrapping around him like a distorted blanket, the ocean nipping at his blue lips in attempts to intoxicate his lungs.

However, he couldn't care less.

[OOC: Official leaving post. I'll re-join one day, though.]