Pokemon Oraim: Adventures

The mid-dawn sun shines warmly in the sky above the Oraim region.  A cool sea breeze washes over the warmth of the bare sun, blowing gently through the coastal city of Silverport.  Gliding against the shimmering waves of the harbor, ships of all sizes maneuver through the waters; fishing boats hauling their morning catch, shipping barges with deliveries and containers destined for the populace, and cruise ships filled with travellers.  With their morning shipments unloaded and moved into warehouses and the next arrivals but a glint on the horizon, activity on the docks slow as workers and sailors seek short reprieves before resuming their duties.  A calm settles over the port, with the shrill squawking of gulls and gentle lapping of waves being all that rises above the idle chatter of laborers and travellers.  Casting a shadow upon all of this is the city’s Lighthouse, a sturdy white spire that towers over the harbor, its luminescent gaze surveying the coast and sea as a sentinel would its ward.  Moving further inland, the waves and ships give way to pavement and buildings, some reaching beyond the Lighthouse’s height as if to boast of their economic prowess, yet the humble lookout’s stark exterior and vigilant gaze seem to dwarf these financial titans into compliance.  Stretching beyond these massive buildings stand yet more towers, these being apartments and businesses of dock workers and the fishermen, the smell of the sea still fragrant.  Beyond this, the buildings vary wildly in peak and style, mirroring the diversity of the goods that find there way to this distant port and the people that call this region home.

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At the northern boundary of Silverport, a girl steps lightly forward into a simple security building and holds the glass door open as she enters.  The salty spray of the ocean and gentle warmth of the sun is replaced with the sharp scent of artificial citrus and impersonal fluorescent lighting.  The girl scans the building’s interior, pale lavender eyes peeking from behind long black hair, and finds two long desks flanking the path forward.  To her left, a large, uniformed man listlessly sits behind a desk, idly flipping through a datapad, while to her right a worn sign sits on the desktop with the words “Use Other Desk” handwritten upon it.  Trotting in behind the girl, a dog-like creature saunters into the building, and once it passes the threshold, the girl finally closes the transparent door.  The canine is jet-black in color, save for a walnut-brown muzzle and underside and rigid, stark white protrusions on its head, torso and ankles.  These protrusions appear to mimic bones, with the object on the canine’s head giving its otherwise easy-going expression the appearance of an aggressive glare.  Upon entering the building, the guard gives the girl no attention, however once the canine enters the building the man takes notice and visibly tenses.  Straightening his back and setting his tablet aside, he leans forward slightly and rests his weight on the desktop with his forearms, subtly beckoning the girl to see him before she continues onward.

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The city of Silverport finally appears on the endless blue horizon, the jagged spires of tall skyscrapers giving way to a formless mass of concrete before a brilliant white tower shines before it.  Expectant relief is plain on the crews’ expressions as they hustle through the ship in preparation of landing, eager to end their nearly two-week voyage from the distant Alola region.  A notice from the captain resounds tinnily through the intercom system, his otherwise deep and commanding voice ringing with a metallic edge.  ”Silverport dead ahead,” the captain reports dutifully to those below deck, the same relief evident in his voice as the rest of his crew. ”Landfall in one hour.  Prep the goods and get yerselves in order a’fore we reach port.”  A smattering of low cheers can be heard throughout the vessel as the notice ends, and the team returns to their tasks with renewed vigor.  All but one.

At the bow of the simple freighter stands a girl, her eyes focused on the looming port city.  Her yellow shirt, orange jacket and jeans contrast against the rusty, washed-out tones of the ship’s color and crew outfits, and her expression is one of anticipation, not of relief or exhaustion.  The wind batters her dark-brown hair about, yet even as she braces and tames her locks against the gale, her equally deep-brown eyes never once falter.  From below the railing, a small, white fox-creature braces itself against the bars, its glance flitting between the distant shore and the girl, filled with quiet excitement.  The creature waiting at the girl’s feet is covered in a beautiful coat of pristine white fur, with piercing blue eyes that scan the faraway land and her companion.  The fox also possesses a multitude of tails, each covered with masses of flowing, snow-white fur, with the top of its vulpine head crowned by a tuft of this fur as well.  From behind the girl and fox, a deep voice rings out above the waves.  ”Well, lass,” the aging captain bellows from behind an accomplished smile.  ”Two weeks!  Told you we’d make time, an’ I was right! An’--more ‘mportantly--right about me bein’ the best cap’n this side of Unova!  So,” the captain asks, setting aside his boasting but not his knowing grin, ”what brings ya all th’ way out ‘ere, so far from ‘ome?  Surely you’d find what yer lookin’ for closer to Alola th’n out ‘ere in th’ distant north!”

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The morning sun finally finds its way through the trees and buildings on the horizon and shines unabated through the moving bus window.  Lit by the sun’s rays, a young student dressed in an expensive-looking uniform dozes quietly in their seat, bag gripped tightly in their lap.  Once their eyes register the blinding light of the sun, they uselessly shield their eyes from the light with their hand, and with a groan they gingerly open their eyes, revealing tired, dark-grey irises.  They find themselves almost alone in the bus, sitting a few rows from the front on the opposite side of the driver, who has somehow withstood the long night drive.  Looking over their shoulder, only a single person remains out of the nearly-full bus from before they lost consciousness; an old lady gazing quietly outside, watching the landscape zip by.  Groggily, the student ruffles their hand through their short black hair and checks their belongings.  They find everything in order, yet their hand find something attached to their belt.  Pulling it out, in their grasp they hold a spherical object no larger than a baseball, with a red top half and white bottom half separated by a button and a thick black line outlining the two halves.  A simple Pokeball, given to them by a helpful Warden before they left on this journey.

The black-haired girl's lavender eyes lock onto the guard, and with a wide grin she glides across the floor towards him, the hound at her heels. "Good morning sir. Is something the matter?" She asks, eyes not straying from the guard's face.

"Good morning, miss," the guard answers, expressionless.  "As of right now, everything's fine, however your Pokemon" he clarifies, motioning to the pup pawing against the desk, "requires verification.  Nothing serious, just a simple security check.  May I see your Trainer Card?"  The guard extends his hand out expectantly.

"Oh, of course of course," The girl replies, digging out her trainer card and passing it over.

Stoically accepting the identification, the guard retrieves his tablet and thumbs through prompts, occasionally entering in some numbers.  "So, Miss... Hazel," the guard asks as he fills in a particularly long field, "What brings you and your Houndour to Silverport today?"

"Professor Cypress asked us to meet him at the Warden station here in Silverport. Well not us exactly, just me, but wherever I go Tartarus comes too. I'm afraid I don't know exactly why he called, but it probably has something to do with the errand he came here for a few days ago," She replies, head cocking slightly to the side.

The guard's eyebrows raise slightly at the mention of the Professor.  "The Pokemon Professor?" the guard replies, now half-invested in the conversation.  "Didn't know he was in town.  Seems like a nice guy; my niece went to his lab up in Mosset a few months ago.  Wants to be a Coordinator.  I take it you're one of his aides?"

"Yes, yes I am," Josie affirms with an passionate nod. "Mostly just observation, most of the science stuff just goes right over my head, but I do what I can. It's good work. I hope your niece is doing well." She continues, her grin growing wider.

"Me too, me too" the guard agrees, finishing the verification prompts on his tablet.  "Alright: Miss Josephine Hazel, Trainer ID 24808.  One Houndour, goes by Tartarus.  Unless you have any other Pokemon with you that you wish to declare, you're free to go."  The guard then offers Josie her Trainer Card back with a polite smile.

Rubbing their sore neck, Harper idly turns and examines the Pokeball at all angles. Been a long time since I held one of these, they muse as they toss the ball up and down a few times for good measure. Guess there's no going back now, Harper finalizes with a bit of a smirk.

Returning the ball to their belt, Harper yawns and looks out the window to try and gauge the remaining travel time.

Looking outside the window to the bus' right side, Harper sees an endless ocean from far below.  The distant sound of waves crashing against steel meld seamlessly with the rush of air and droning of rubber against concrete as the bus continues its route forward. In the foreground, zipping past faster than one could see, are the multitude of steel supports holding the road high above the waves, along with the occasional massive girder acting as an intermediate anchor for the bridge. This massive bridge, the Grand Aurora Bridge, connects the northeastern section of Oraim to its southern counterpart--but more importantly, it lies near Silverport.  To their left, just beyond the driver in the window, Harper can see distant spires of concrete and steel imposing against the calm blue sky, with a nearly-blinding array of windows and glass reflecting the sun's rays.

Mahealani smiles brightly at the captain. "Of course you were right. Just like I was right that you'd push to get here in time just to prove yourself right." She giggles and reaches a hand down to rub Kalea's head. "As for why I'm here, what I'm looking for doesn't exist in Alola yet. We don't have a Pokemon League yet, and no League means no Championship."

The captain's knowing grin is slowly replaced by one of grudging respect.  "...Yer craftier th'n yer uncle let on, ya'know tha' lass?" the captain bellows in reply with a chortle, his jolly demeanor unimpeded by this loss.  "An' aimin' fer our Champion already?" he continues, "not ev'n stepped foot on land an' already yer gunnin' fer our bes' an' brightest?  Ye got guts, lass!" the captain complements candidly.  "Not one to root fer th' away team meself, but ye look like ye'll give our Champ a fight fer th' ages.  'Course, you'n yer li'l kit there'll 'ave some work head'a ya.  Speakin' of," the captain meanders, glancing down at the pure-white fox.  "Never seen'a Vulpix wit' a coat that white.  Ah'm not as familiar wit' the creatures over'n Alola, but ain't Vulpix suppose to have a bit more... red?"

"No, Tartarus is it, at least so far," Josie replies, accepting the card. "Thank you sir, and have a good day," She adds, with a small incline of her head, finally removing her eyes from his face as she turns to continue on her way.

Lani's eyebrow raises. "Uh... no? Vulpix are white. I mean, what kind of ice type Pokemon is red, that would just be weird."

"...'Ice,' ye say?" the captain muses, looking back down to the fox before returning to its Trainer.  "...Hm.  Well, yer th' one headed fer the Champ here, 'n ah'm just an' ol' salt, so ah'll take yer word ov'r mine on tha'."  Sensing an awkwardness, the captain abruptly continues with "Anyhow, we're set to make landfall within th' hour, so get yer belongin's 'n things all packed, lass.  We wouldn't want yer valuables bein' up'n sold at th' market now would we!"  With a hearty laugh at his own joke, the captain turns and meanders back to his post.

Lani chuckles and goes to do exactly that, Kalea trotting at her heels still preening from the compliment to her fur.

The city of Silverport glistens in the midday sun.  Waves splash against the myriad ships anchored in its namesake ports, and the city bustles with excitement and trade.  The Silverport Lighthouse, standing tall against the skyscrapers of businesses and offices, keeps watch over the bobbing ships below, and in its shade the people and Pokemon of Oraim go about their day-to-day lives.

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Silverport Map:

At the northernmost section of Silverport, Josie emerges from the checkpoint and enters the residential area of the city.  The concrete streets are mostly quiet save for the occasional passerby walk past, absorbed in their schedules and personal affairs.  Occasionally, the great bellowing of foghorns can be heard piercing the quiet scene, announcing to the world that a ship has docked or left.

At the southern end of Silverport, Lani finally disembarks from the ship after two long weeks sailing the ocean.  The docks are a frantic hub of activity, with workers and sailors in various stages of delivery, resupplying or maintenance of the vast array of ships currently anchored there.  The occasional caws of gulls can be heard shrieking above the din of sailors, as well as the creaking and groaning of wood and steel.

At the western edge of Silverport, Harper exits from the checkpoint after a short walk from the bus stop, and finds themself surrounded by massive buildings.  To their left, massive towers of steel, glass and concrete soar into the sky, whereas to the right they find massive warehouses stretching from beyond the checkpoint building to an equally huge pier.  In the forest of warehouses, Harper can also hear the roar of diesel engines and hiss of hydraulics as shipping trucks load and unload their wares.  The docks are equally busy as ships of all sizes and makes crowd the port with a flurry of laborers navigating among themselves as singlemindedly devoted to their tasks as ants would be.

For these three, despite coming from very different lives, they have each been tasked with the same goal; Meeting Professor Cypress at the Silverport Warden Station.

Setting her feet to the road, Josie starts wandering, searching for some kind of sign or marker to point her in the right direction. After a few minutes of unsuccessful searching she takes stock of her surroundings again, and finds she seems to have wandered into the midst of a slew of warehouses, probably not where she wanted to be. A small frown playing across her lips she shakes her head and looks over at Tartarus. "I think we're lost," She says to the hound, sighing. "Maybe we should ask a local."

Fortunately for Lani, there's a directory at the docks and, with little trouble manages to find directions to the Warden Station due north of her. "C'mon Kalea," she says to the Vulpix at her heels. "Let's hit up our first stop."

Following the directory's instruction, Lani finds the station with little difficulty.  Surrounded on all sides by buildings far taller than it, and despite its simple architecture, the Warden stands out from the crowd of structures around it thanks to its distinctive look; the natural, rust-red brick clash greatly against the modern-looking concrete, and a sign emblazoned with the official seal of the Wardens posted near the entrance.

Upon entering the building, Lani finds that the interior matches the exterior in style--simple yet naturalistic and pleasing.  The floor is comprised of wood, not concrete or steel, and is covered by worn-looking, well-kept rugs.  The walls are similarly old-fashioned with panels of wood in varying width lining the sides.  To her right, Lani can see an impressive freshwater fish tank, filled with small marine creatures, and to her left she finds a small collection of chairs for patrons to wait.  On these chairs, a man is snoring softly with a magazine over his face, arms crossed as he dozes.

On the wall opposite of the entrance, Lani finds a desk with a large board behind it.  Various papers are tacked and adhered to the board, some with markings across them and others with pictures and descriptions.  Manning the desk is a husky, dutiful-looking man wearing some sort of uniform.  Wrapped across his wide shoulders is a short, gray-green mantle that goes no further than his elbows, and pinned by a small badge with a strange mark on it.  Underneath the mantle the man is wearing outdoors gear; a sturdy-looking jacket fastened across his chest with thick gloves protecting his hands.  Shuffling a sheave of papers against the countertop, the man looks up as Lani enters, then smiles warmly at her and does a polite wave while setting his papers down.  "Welcome to the Silverport Warden Station," the man greets Lani, his voice deep and booming.  "What brings you here today?"

An Espeon sits perched upon a warehouse, enjoying the sun and soaking in some warmth. It would almost be perfect for him, but he suddenly feels a little rumble in his gut. Ah yes, hunger strikes again. He thinks, somewhat annoyed that his own bodily needs would interrupt his pleasant rest.

He looks out from his perch surveying his surroundings for an easy source of food. As luck would have it, he sees a girl looking lost and out of place. After she exclaims the need to find her way, Espeon seizes the opportunity and reaches out to her psychically. ”I can help, if you have some food.”

Josie's head snaps up at the mental contact, body going deathly still. "I don't know who you are, but it's rude to go poking into someone's mind," She says to the air, body on high alert as her eyes slide around the vicinity. "If you're actually offering help, something could be arranged, but I'd really rather speak face to face," She adds.

”Mental contact is the only way I can speak to you,” Espeon says, hopping down from the warehouse along some stacked crates by the side. He walks confidently in front of the girl and gives a wink. ”It’d be hard to direct you just mrrowling and growling.”

Josie's eyes lock onto the Espeon as it approaches, her grin re-appearing. "Well that does explain some things," She says to herself, relaxing slightly and dropping to one knee to get closer to the Espeon's eye level. "So you'll help me find the Warden station in exchange for some food. I'm afraid I don't have anything on me, but as I said, something can be arranged. I'm guessing you have your own preferences, so lead the way," She says, one hand idly going to Tartarus's head and scratching behind his ears as she speaks.