Everyone on the team lieks Mudkipz.

I like Raikt. He's a pretty cool guy and doesn't afraid of anything.

/addsintruthitsevenbetweenprettymucheveryone.

Ho'damn, works galore. Didn't we have a thread like this before? I'm not sure. +2 Cookies if anyone finds it.

No, it's allowed if we have the time and the inclination to fight you. I've gone up against a few of our members, and I've fought Gammal as well.

We know what we are doing. I'm not sure how many times I am going to have to say it, but we don't average. We don't group. We don;t clump. We are doing each Pokemon individually, one at a time, and tailoring their stats and talent trees specifically for them.

/endrandomnumbercrunching

None of us are normal.

... none of us.

And welcome to PU!

I've heard sooooo many horror stories about the 360 breaking down. I know someone who's on their FIFTH 360! I dunno about all you guys, but I really can't afford to replace a system that many times, and warrant always seems to run out right before you need to. I hadn't heard about too many problems with the PS3 though, so that was a huge factor.

Note: The horror stories are just scare tactics used by most people to start console wars. Me, and every friend I know that owns a 360, have had the same one since launch day. In fact, the only thing I've changed is the HDD.

Welcome to the community, Oboko. If you haven't already, check out the news and announcements section for the rules of the forum. (Along with any News or Announcements.) Good to see so many new people joining here at PU.

Hit us up on IRC (webchat at the top of the screen if you don't have it) if you want to talk to the team more.

I've been keeping an eye on the Role Play section of the board recently, and it's somewhat rekindled my love for writing. (Not that it ever really went anywhere. I've just been busy.) So, I took a crack at finishing up some work on a story concept that me and a few friends started a while back. I'm still unsure about whether it has any promise or not, but I like to write regardless. I'm also quite wordy, which is why I didn't join the Role Play to begin with; I didn't want to bore anyone with TL;DR syndrome.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Oh, and an aside: I always enjoy criticism and corrections. If you spot an error, think something is worded odd, or would like to see something, just give me a heads up! And another one. I like semicolons. -Holds up a spork.-

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His fingers deftly pulled apart the intricate mechanisms holding the machine together, their grace and dexterity surely befuddling to someone who had not spent decades perfecting the art of disassembling and reassembling the worlds technologies. Sparks flew out of the inner recesses of his project, their luminance shining for only a brief moment before waning into oblivion against the pungent leather of his smock. Sweat continued to beat down his forehead, most of it coalescing at the tip of his nose before falling onto the ancient wooden bench below where his latest device was being lovingly created. A soft flicker of light hardened into a powerful stream of fire as he clicked his welding torch on and began to apply it to one side of the machine. Soft whirrs and clickings could be heard coming from within the metal shell as cogs began to mesh together, even as he super heated the outside. After a few moments the light clicked out, leaving behind a creeping darkness as the device continued to hum gently in the background. A light grin cracked his hardened features as he scooped the ball up carefully in a gloved hand and removed his welding mask; the single scar that ran from the bottom of his left eye and split the corner of his mouth stretched taut under the strain of something he had not done in so long. "This should get the job done..." The deep, gravelly voice echoed oddly in the tiny work cabin.

For nearly the last decade there had been little else to do for Duthar other than create, and subsequently test, his inventions and ideas. Most of them were little more than modified versions of the weapons the trackers used and that he had confiscated when they had met an untimely demise, ironically by effect of their own devices. Stun guns altered to become electric trip wires; darts hollowed out and filled with poison, then inlaid into a tree ready to trip; speeder parts taken and used to create explosive bait traps. Surviving, and saving the remaining mages in the process, was what was needed to stop the trackers and stay alive in the harsh wilds. He could not be defeated in his own dominion and the trackers still failed to realize that. This was where he reigned king, and it was from here that he would develop a way to save his kind.

A groaning pop rang out among the oddly quiet surroundings as Duthar reposed his body into a series of exercises he had designed early on to keep his small frame fit and limber. Multiple rounds of these stretches, which quickly increased in difficulty, usually followed after he spent any amount of time in his workshop. The sweat and layer of grime that he had acquired quickly became uncomfortable, however, and he decided that a dip in the nearby stream would not be amiss. Besides, he wanted to be fresh for what he had planned today. His newest creation was a little gift that he had been dreaming of for months. It had taken quite a while to acquire the parts, after all.

After he had scoured his flesh to a bright pink in the stream, he redressed and smoothed back his hair, examining his appearance in a small shard of mirror he had managed to recover from a destroyed Land Shark. Except for the odd, pale scar that ran down his cheek, he admitted to himself that he could still easily pass for someone in the city, even with his odd outfit choice of flexible leather. With a satisfied grunt, he took to the nearest branch, hauled his light frame up, and took off down the myriad of interconnecting tree limbs to reach the area where he had a concealed land speeder. It was almost invisible underneath the overhanging foliage and vines that he had draped over it, melding into the background with the camouflage pattern he had painted on the side using crushed dyes made from materials around the forest. Brushing aside the vegetation and removing a few of the more adventurous vines, he flipped the activation switch and nodded as the speeder purred to life. He had little cause to use it most of the time, but the worn paint and patched parts showed that it had proven itself over and over again to be reliable. Hopping onto the seat he released the brake and hit the gas, sending the speeder flying off the massive entanglement of boughs to nearly slam into the forest floor below; he loved to see just how hard he could test the hover abilities of the craft. With a grin, slightly larger than the one earlier, he opened the throttle and took off.

Within minutes he had bypassed the more dangerous and cumbersome portions of the wilds, something that the Trackers still hadn't learned in their ignorance, and had made it to the Tracker capital of their nearly barren world: Verincourt. Duthar's nostrils flared as he let his gaze roam over the architecture of the city... "Too little nature, too much Tracker" had become the unofficial motto for the city between the surviving mages of the wilds. There was a brief moment of bustle as he looked for a suitable spot to hide his modified land speeder, before he made a circuit of the area to check and see if any new alarms had been implemented since his last visit. After he had made sure that no one had spotted him or the land speeder, he slipped into a long forgotten crack in the exterior of the city. Following a veritable maze of twisting slits and crumbling paths, within half an hour he had made it into the poor district of the city; the part of the city filled with unwanted and disease ridden beggars. He could have come in through the upper sections, where another crack was available, but he always chose this way to remind him of his goals. Sweat began to trickle down his arm, despite the coolness of the day, as he began to palm the metallic sphere that was covered in a soft leather pouch and hidden in one his pockets. He could still feel the soft hum of the mechanisms as his scarred visage gave the area a cursory glance before he set up a meandering pace designed to throw off anyone that could possibly follow him. "Let's see if I can cause a little stir this time around."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I don't really like to judge my own work, as with anything someone creates you'll get attached to it. Thus, I usually have a skewed opinion on the things I write. So, what do you guys think? Random fact: I want to publish something some day.