Emir: Travel Quest 1 [Plains to Storm]

Simplicity is a known pattern in the Plains. It is fact and will always be one. Simple roads stretch past simple fields and merge into small towns of simple living folk. A life like this may be satisfactory for most, but not for all. Souls reach out for wild explosive hearts, ready to see every whim and every emotion. Sometime's prosperity and peace bring dull living. Dull living leaves a yearning feeling. This yearning feeling always finds a road to travel.

The road that was followed by the young trainer lead them to a place not know by most. Today's fate has lead to an old store. Wooden signs watch the front of the store, shouting out to the the world that they are open. Announcements printed onto white paper are stuck to the walls. "Sale! Come on in!" It's a place that should have gone out of business a long time ago. But in the plains, time moves at its own pace.

On the side of the road, sheltered from reality and the harshness of the storm on the horizon, it sits quietly for anyone to enter.

A single man sits at the counter with a cigar in hand. Gray hair leads to a balding scalp. His eyes show exhaustion. The air around here is more humid than the rest of the Plains. His lips stretch into a smile. This life. He would not have it any other way.

Further on this road is an explosion. Simple roads will become tangled and confusing, raging with life. From the small store, the scent of rain lingers.

To enter the storm, one must prepare. For they may not return.

-1

(No Apricot drop. Rolled an 81.)

 

Out on the wide-open plains past the road, a pack of wild Pokemon run free, a series of Furret leaping and playing in the high grass. Another creature watches them, its poison-barbed tail twitching in the wind... but to no avail. As soon as it jumped off its owner's shoulder, opening its wide patagium to glide over the field, it was swiftly recalled to a yellow-green ball by its owner, a now-alone traveler journeying down the long, empty road.

Outside the store, the pilgrim consults his map, squinting as he peers at the high midday sun. His continuous pace finally slows to a halt as he reaches into one of the packs beneath his wide, dust-brown cloak to grab hold of a large canteen. As he drank greedily, the young traveler stops to recall his journey so far, though it's hardly a surprise to him when he finds himself drawing a blank. Already he had traveled for two endless, quiet days (as though there were other sorts of days on the Plains) but he was well past knowing he would have far, far longer to travel. Looking up from the map to the roadside store, he sighs, shrugs his shoulders and makes his way inside.

Breathing deeply in the musky air, the wanderer looks from shelf to shelf, obviously unsure of what's worth his attention or his money, periodically rummaging through several packs to compare a displayed good with . Upon noticing the man behind the counter, he nods quickly and greets the shopowner. "I'm quite sorry, I didn't see you there, sir. I'm Emir... Emir, and I'm trying to make my way off the Plains. Would you happen to know the best route to Yongkai, the Ringed City, from here?"

 

A lone trainer drags themselves in from the booming wilds outside. The open door lets the sound of thudding hooves poor into the quiet store. The door shuts again, leaving the store silent.

As the trainer enters, the man at the counter nods. Inside of the store is the quiet humming coming from beneath the floor. As the door shuts behind the trainer, a low rumble booms from afar. Light tapping on the roof. It's raining.

An ash tray resting atop the counter at the front gives off smoke that brings a fog into the store. The thick musty air makes it feel as if you're walking through a swamp. The aisles seem to be lightly stocked. Whatevers left on the shelves appears to be all that remains. "Sale!" Tags rest on every shelf.

The man watches the trainer with concerned eyes. Fingers scrape against his face. Cigar smoke escapes his lips and melts into the air. The trainer approaches. The man's smile glows brighter, stretching wider and wider.

"What can I do for ya today?" The man speaks, a small bit of an accent in his voice.

The trainer responds introducing himself. As he explains what his objective is, the man's smile disappears and leaves a straight face.

The man's hand fumbles for something under the counter, nodding to show that he heard them. Thunder rumbles closer. The humming from beneath moves about. Sweaty palms drop a key onto the counter.

"I'll tell ya. But first, you gotta do something for me." The man wipes his hand off on his shirt. "Got a problem downstairs. Digletts." He scratches his head. He points with his cigar to a rickety wooden door in the back. "Can't go down there and get my supplies." He nods his head to all the aisles. "If ya wouldn't mind, I'd appreciate it if you could get one of the big blue boxes downstairs." The man huffs, pressing his cigar into the ashtray. "Then I'll help ya be on yer way."

-2

(Apricot roll was 22. Rip.)

 

Pest control. He wants me to carry out pest control. Emir hesitates for a moment, unsure as to whether the graying shopowner is serious. A moment's consideration, however, makes it more than obvious that any humor the proprietor may have once had has been scoured from him by the stagnant cycle of day after month after year of life on the open Plains. Right. I could offer... no. As the traveler's tutelage in the court of the Councillor had taught him, "Words beget more words. Only by action can you drive others to act." Besides, if he knew anything of tales of pilgrimage, being forced to learn humility would be only a natural turn of events on this sort of journey; better not to resist it. "A blue bin for information, then? That sounds fair enough."

Reaching a hand out from under his dusty cloak, Emir slid the key off the counter, his other hand already fishing around in his pocket. If there were enough to pose a real threat in there, he had best already have his own weapon in hand. Finally, his hands closed around the hollow sphere, its green and yellow pattern marking him an unmistakable man of the plains. As he stepped to the decaying threshold, one hand on the knob, he turned back a moment, unable to stifle his concerns. "Before I step inside the cellar, may I ask what exactly am I getting into? How long have you been dealing with them? Why not just hire a professional, or set up shop elsewhere, away from Diglett territory? Forgive me if I overstep, I was simply curious."