Sorry if I was supposed to wait, Negrek, but I seem to be the only one ready to go with this (shock, horror) and thought it'd be best to move forward.
Only a few of the open-air stage's empty seats have been filled by the time Block Two's first appeal round is ready to get underway, much to the chagrin of the event organizers; one would think that ticket sales would be higher after the league had gone without contests for such a long time. Sighing and telling themselves that the low turnout must be due to the relative anonymity of the competitors in this block--surely there would be a much larger audience if there were a few big names to draw in the crowd--they take their own seats and settle down to watch. The four coordinators certainly looked ambitious enough when they first registered... with any luck, then, at least one of them will put on enough of a show to
make a big name.
Sage Noctowl and Lancelot XLII
First to take the stage in the second block are Sage Noctowl and Lancelot XLII, a young riolu who crosses to the center of the field with his arms swinging nervously at their sides. Sage Noctowl gives his pokémon a reassuring nod before standing off to the side and out of sight; Lancelot, heartened slightly by the encouragement, takes a deep breath and centers himself. The pause is only a momentary one--within seconds the riolu is off, dashing in a tight circle around the stage. Blurry afterimages seem to fall away from him as he goes, four of them becoming more distinct and well-defined as he begins to slow down. Five identical riolu now stand in a rough circle on the grass, eying one another carefully. Each one lifts his arms and begins to glow a faint white, summoning a ring of tiny spheres that levitate in the air around him. Before the spheres can move, however, the waiting audience notices a look of consternation crossing each of the five faces. The riolu freeze momentarily, as if uncertain, and then drop the circle of orbs before they can begin their customary color-changing routine.
The crowd starts to mumble, somewhat confused by the sudden halt, and their puzzled rumblings do not escape the pokémon on stage. That look of consternation becomes even more pronounced, but they do their best to stumble ahead in spite of their nerves; they need to keep moving, even if they can't keep both of their ordered moves going at the same time. Searing blue light surrounds the paws of each riolu as it points its arms out to one side. The lights grow into orbs, much larger than the tiny spheres the group had previously abandoned, before launching forward and zooming in a straight line toward the riolu two spaces to the left. The audience lets out a few gasps as the brilliant aura spheres pass in front of their targets, tracing a five-pointed star in the air for a split second before disappearing.
Lancelot and his clones flinch as they watch the ephemeral star vanish as soon as it appears, but a harried whisper from Sage Noctowl off-stage keeps them going. The white spheres surround their bodies once again, this time remaining airborne long enough to flash through several pale colors before settling on an icy blue. The riolu reposition their arms so that they are pointing directly to their left before firing, sending a thick swarm of tiny, glowing orbs toward their compatriots. The orbs' sporadic distribution and wide spacing makes the pentagon they outline look thick, staticky and insubstantial rather than crisp and precise, much to the riolus' dismay; still, the audience applauds politely all the same as the orbs fade, the clones vanish and the real Lancelot tries to keep his head high during his walk off of the stage.
Kratos Aurion: 6.0
Sorry, man, but I don't think it was really possible for you to pull this off the way I assume you'd intended. It's a shame, too, because the pentagram would've been quite showy otherwise. Pokémon, especially unevolved pokémon, have a lot of difficulty keeping up with two unrelated attacks simultaneously, and hidden power and aura sphere are too different to work well together. Furthermore, hidden power consists of many small particles and doesn't launch in the clean, straight line I think you were looking for. Certainly neither one lasts very long, especially not aura sphere, and that makes it hard for the shapes to have much impact; exceptionally bright beam attacks, for example secret power, would've made clearer lines and perhaps left some sort of notable afterimage. What Lancelot managed was very flashy, at least.
Negrek: 5.8
This was a nice idea; it's too bad it didn't go so well in practice. Something like secret power probably would have served you better than hidden power here--it's a beam and so rather easier to control, though less colorful. I like how you got two different shapes out of the same double team formation.
Mike the Foxhog: 7.3
Brock and Endurspelga
Lancelot's appeal was, thankfully, little more than a light show, leaving virtually no clean-up work for the stage crew before the next coordinator steps up for his turn. Brock gives the audience a brief wave before motioning to his bronzor and sending it forward. Endurspelga turns its blank gaze toward the sparsely-populated bleachers, watching them impassively; if it's feeling any nervousness, it certainly doesn't betray this. Instead it climbs higher into the air, levitating a good few feet above the grass and then sending itself into a spin. Not unlike Lancelot before it, it moves in a tight circle above the stage, its movements becoming blurrier and more indistinct the faster it goes; it cannot accelerate to quite the same degree that Lancelot could, however, and it is only capable of producing three clones before it is forced to come to a halt and move on.
Falling short of its original goal doesn't seem to faze Endurspelga, however, and it and its clones move on in spite of renewed mutters from the crowd (
Another double team? What's this one going to do?). Each of the four bronzor moves outward until they all float in a circle, then turns its surface up toward the sky before firing a beam of brilliant, multicolored light up toward the thin clouds. Red, blue and green twist themselves into four individual spirals of light that stretch up for a good distance, and several members of the audience crane their necks upward slightly to see the length of their trajectory.
Each spiral begins to shudder slightly as its respective bronzor then tries to manipulate it with psychic energy, a faint glow shimmering off of the pokémon's metallic bodies as they work. Maintaining a continuous signal beam and trying to warp it into a recognizable shape proves to be exceptionally difficult, however; the audience is treated instead to several seconds of gently swaying signal beams that wave back and forth in a vaguely circular outline. The bronzor lift themselves up even higher and hold the waving beams for a few more seconds before coming back down. Brock recalls Endurspelga and allows the clones to fade away to another spattering of bemused applause, slightly disappointed with the inarticulate shape but proud of his pokémon's first performance nonetheless.
Kratos Aurion: 5.5
Not bad, but unfortunately hindered by Endurspelga's limited capabilities. With a base speed of 23, bronzor just isn't fast enough to create large numbers of clones in one go; the best it could do was three. Maintaining psychic and signal beam at the same time is also very difficult for such a low-stage pokémon. The end result, therefore, was less than spectacular and not really recognizable as a bronzor; it still looked decent, though. Next time try using psychic to manipulate things that don't need continued effort to keep up, at least until Endurspelga evolves.
Negrek: 5.4
This felt a little similar to Sage Noctowl's appeal for my taste, what with the making clones and then trying to use them to describe some fancy shape with energy attacks. The kind of psychic manipulation you were asking for is a bit of a tall order, but at least what you got was still kind of pretty.
Mike the Foxhog: 3.0
Magikarp and Eragon
Magikarp and his dragomelet, Eragon, are the next to put in an appearance after a quick once-over from the clean-up staff to ensure the stage is ready for use again. The crowd perks up a little more now, curious about the strange, egg-like reptile that rolls across the grass behind its trainer and then overtakes him. The little hatchling pauses when it judges that it has gone far enough and then pokes its claws out of its shell. The wind around the stage picks up without warning, giving the hot, uncomfortable audience a quick taste of a cool breeze before things take a dramatic turn toward the unexpected.
The wind begins to blow harder and faster as Eragon rubs his tiny hands together, particles of dust, dirt and grit tearing themselves free of the lawn and swirling through the air. The cooling draft quickly becomes uncomfortable, flying earth stinging exposed skin and working its way into any unprotected eyes, ears and mouths. Only Eragon remains unfazed, his stony shell protecting him from the grating sandstorm. Mercifully, the inclement weather lasts for only a few more seconds before dying down again, allowing the disturbed dirt to settle back on top of the grass.
The audience uncovers its eyes and looks down at the stage to see that much of the green has vanished, now quite well-covered by brown earth--this includes the dragomelet, who is now sporting a light dusting of dirt himself. The layers of dirt move and shift, picking themselves up and swirling toward the earth-covered dragon. The audience flinches momentarily, half expecting another sandstorm to start up, but they calm down when they see that the soil is now flinging itself solely toward Eragon. The earth piles up, not terribly solid but definitely thick, completely obscuring the dragomelet from view and leaving the audience scratching their head as they wonder exactly what is going on.
Then the earth begins to rumble beneath the lawn, causing the accumulated dirt to tremble. A muffled roar comes from the buried Eragon, seconds before a rippling sheet of flame tears itself free from the ground and explodes in a plume of heat and red light. The soil is instantly torn away from the egg pokémon and flung out in all directions along with the earth power in a spray of grit, light and fire. The air shimmers in front of Eragon before he, too, is recalled, and the sand-covered spectators clap appreciatively as Magikarp bows through the haze and exits stage left.
Kratos Aurion: 7.2
Rock tomb can't compress sand into rocks, no, but Eragon did the best he could with what he had. And that best wasn't too shabby; throwing off sand didn't have the same effect that throwing off much more substantial rocks would've, but the explosion of earth and flame looked pretty nice. The sandstorm felt a little disjointed, though. It was required for the setup you wanted, yes, but Eragon just sort of sat there and let himself get covered by it. The first move probably could've been something else if you really wanted rocks (see Kam's appeal below--rock tomb would've been able to work without sandstorm), which in turn would have let you choose something that flowed a bit better. Fairly impressive for a first run, though I'd suggest double-checking the attack guide and making sure you know what is and isn't required for the moves you want to use.
Negrek: 6.3
It was a nice explosion, though I'm not sure it's exactly what you were intending. It went off okay; solid execution, but not a lot exciting going on in terms of concept.
Mike the Foxhog: 9.0
Kammington and Slash Grizzly
A torterra trundles its way onto the field after Magikarp leaves, finally called upon to straighten things up now that an appeal has actually done some damage to the lawn. A few minutes of careful stomping and scattering of seeds manages to close up the fissure torn into the ground and set the grass back on top where it belongs. The audience members, left to talk amongst themselves while the torterra went about its work, snap back to attention when the tortoise pokémon heads off again, leaving the outdoor stage just about as nice as it was before and ready for the final appeal of the block.
That appeal is made by Kammington, who approaches the stage with a female teddiursa at his side. Slash Grizzly centers herself on the newly-repaired turf, the look of intense concentration on her face somewhat at odds with her rounded features and chubby form. The little bear throws her paws up and the earth starts to tremble beneath her feet. Several boulders, each one approximately the teddiursa's size or larger, tear themselves free of the ground, undoing all of the torterra's maintenance work in seconds, and then, with another paw wave from Slash, pile themselves onto the grass before her.
Satisfied with her simple cairn, Slash retreats for a few paces and then throws her head back in a primal scream. Any remaining thoughts of cuddly teddies are swiftly driven from the audience's mind as the cub howls and batters wildly at her own chest. The screeching only increases in pitch as she stops drumming and throws herself forward, barreling into the mound of rocks while surrounded by a corona of ruddy light. Her paws, which moments before had seemed so small and sweet, crack open the stones and send them flying through the air with each reckless strike. The startled audience recovers fairly quickly once they recognize the familiar appeal, and one or two of them even sigh as Slash sends the last shattered rock skidding into the pond with a well-placed kick; still, none can deny that she effectively decimated the solid-looking stone structure, and they give her a hearty round of applause before she, too, vacates the rubble-strewn stage.
Kratos Aurion: 8.0
Of all the appeals yours was the only one that went off without a hitch, so you get points for proper execution of the moves. The thing is, though--and in your defense, you wouldn't really be able to get a good feel for this given that there are only partial contests on the boards for you to learn from--that so-called "create and destroy" appeals are absolutely done to death these days. Yes, it's impressive when a tiny teddiursa puts on this amazing display of strength, but at the end of the day we all know that pokémon can break things. If you want to smash stuff, you're going to have to add a little more to the appeal than posturing and yelling. A little story, a little more peril, just... something extra.
Negrek: 7.0
Making or setting something up and then destroying it is a pretty common appeal type, though the ferocity of Grizzly Slash's belly drum added a bit more energy to it than you usually see. Overall a solid appeal, though it lacks a little in flair and creativity.
Mike the Foxhog: 8.5
The last of the rocks and sand are swept away and the stage returned to something approximating its original, pristine state as audience and coordinators alike turn their attention to the large monitor suspended overhead. It remains blank for a few more seconds then springs to life with a flash, displaying the names of the competitors and their final scores:
Kammington: 23.5
----
Magikarp: 22.5
Sage Noctowl: 19.1
Brock: 13.9
Congratulations to Kammington, who advances to the next appeal round. Well done to all who participated, and good luck in future contests. Stay tuned for the rest of the first round!
