New Frontiers - An Open RP

[Dicearm]

Setting

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A small, uncharted island. Pokemon-only. Other than that anything really goes. Woo. Not the bet setting but whatevr

Itane, the self-proclaimed knight, was off doing what any self-respecting knight would be doing - He was out in the wilderness, making a name for himself! It didn't matter that there were no maps of this new island, mysteriously dubbed Frontier Island. It didn't matter that he had wandered off the beaten path hours ago, and had no clue where he was. No, all that mattered to the sandshrew, was that he knew where food was. ...Unfortunately, he had no idea on food yet. OH WELL! That was just a minor detail, really. It was the spirit of the adventure that mattered!

Or at least, so it had seemed at the time. Flashforeward to now, and Itane? Well. He was pretty much stumbling through the undergrowth at this point. The blackened patch on his head was prettymuch hidden in the dark, but the rest of him? All yellow and stuff? Totally stuck out like a sore thumb. He wasn't goin' to be doing any stealth missions tonight. Not that he had to do a stealth mission. His stomach growled quite nosily, and he was almost tempted to just eat the next berry he found, poisoned or not.

Perhaps he should of listened to Sebastian about being a bit more cautious. Not that he'd ever admit that to the sorcerer. They were rivals to the bitter end; anything Sebastian could do, Itane could do better! And there the knight went, singing as he walked.

"Anyhting you can do, I can do better! No you can't, yes I can, no you can't, yes I caaan~..."

The sneasel hissed in the back of his throat as he shifted through the freshly dirt turned dirt close to the tree. Closely interlocking his long claws beneath the earth, he vibrated his hands, sifting the dirt and obtaining the freshly fallen seeds. These he slide into an empty fruit husk that hung by a strap over his shoulder. Having filled his quota in one regard, the gourd rattling as it swings against his moving hip, the dark type moves onward to a nearby spiny.

The sneasel rubbed the purple paint upon his face as he knelt down, scything the underbrush with his talons and gathering the small herbs and flowers that grew under the spiny's bushy limbs. This vegetation disappeared into a pouch slung across the opposing shoulder to the gourd.

The sneasel made the guttural hiss again as he stood, stretching. He paused a moment and itched the purple markings upon his belly, peering into the canopy above him. He squinted for a moment before sprinting to the nearby tree with a speed most surprising. His claws sank into the bark as his arms and legs climbed up the makeshift makeshift handholds.

Reaching a middle height limb of the tree, the sneasel crawled along the branch to a fork in the wood, in which nestled a carefully constructed nest of twigs and leaves. The icy Pokemon quietly lifted the pidgy eggs from their place, disassembling the nest to serve as padding within the fruit husk at his side.

Feeling a little giddy with anticipation of the feast and blessing his luck, the sneasel felt his wide grin diminish has he spotted a yellow rotund rodent down below him. His eyes narrowed and he watched from the vantage point as it attempted to navigate the overgrown goat tracks between the trees.

Meanwhile, near the Sandshrew...a young man, 5'5, 16 years of age, was strolling alongside a different path...sure, the Sandshrew stuck out like a really, really, really sore thumb...like, seriously sore...you get what I'm saying. But Norris paid little attention to it, focusing on...okay, he was trying to find some sort of inhabitants here, in this place, but was doing a horrid job at it. He gripped his pick, which was in the curls of his afro, and begam picking through his hair. He had yet to notice the rodent, but his whistling would surely give away his location as well! He was also tossing and catching an empty Pokeball in his right palm. "This place sucks, man...how did I even end up here?"

[Dicearm]

The Sandshrew's song simply stopped in the middle of his throat as whistling faded into existence. Whistling? Not many creatures could do that. Itane certainly knows he can't - He'd tried ever so hard to learn it before. The whistling didn't necessarily mean that he was about to come under attack, but....well. As hungry and lost as he was? He didn't want to be caught unaware. So he did the smart thing - He quietly shuffled himself into a bush and behind a tree, waiting for the sound to vanish.

He poked his head out of it to take a look nonetheless, however. Thankfully, the hexagonal plates on his head were black - That, combined with the thickness of the branches, were enough to hide him. But would it really be enough? Hopefully so. The knight cast his gaze upwards into the tree - Maybe that would be safer? He certainly thought it would be. But only because of how late it was - The Sneasel hiding above was missed entirely. His thoughts probably would of changed had he seen the predatory creature.

But it was night out, the Sneasel wasn't seen, and Itane made the decision to try and climb. It was a much slower process for the Sandshrew - His claws and limbs weren't nearly as long - It took him twice the work to cover half the distance. Add his hunger to the mix, and Itane simply collapses on the first sturdy branch he reaches, limbs draped over it as he tried to catch his breath.

The darkness mattered little to the sneasel, it's vision and hearing well adapted to the night. Indeed, the the ice type rarely slept at all. Any time of day was fine to him.

The predator watched the armadillo with interest, his eyes glinting under the pale moonlight as it noisily groans and shuffled it's why up the trunk before collapsing on the limb lowest to the ground. The dark type giggled mischievously, admiring his own superiority.

Absorbed in his observations, the sneasel snapped his neck up upon hearing the lightest flutter of wings. Only owls flew so quietly. Turning the the sound, the sneasel's face fell as the massive Noctowl barrelled down towards him. The bird, being over twice the size on the sneasel, had it's unblinking gaze fixed upon him. The egg thief's stomach fell as the bird of prey screeched, the call piercing the night like nails down slate rock.

The bird swooped in low, hate in it's mind as it wished to avenge it's stolen children. The talons came forward, aimed for the sneasel's eyes. The dark type Pokemon swung down under the branch as the owl swooped above, it's predatory talons still stained from its last catch. The Noctowl screeched again, rounding and searching out its quarry. Again its psychic eyes locked onto the sneasel, perhaps seeking the purple paint rather than the psychic immune body itself.

The dark type was fearful and panicky, unsure of his options as the angry parent neared it's enemy. Making a decision, the sneasel dropped from the branch, leading the Noctowl to screech in triumph as it passed and the small egg thief to plummet to the forest floor.

Arms pinwheeling, the dark type lashed out at any possible branch or handhold, snapping the twigs and limbs of the tree as he fell. Passing the exhausted sandshrew, the sneasel grabbed its hand, praying it wasn't so unwitting to let it fall with him.