Welcome to Gaia! ::

With his eyes partially glazed over as he marched forward, Tsuki only realized just how far he had gotten when he had finally made it to the warning sign that called the gorge Oni’s Maw. He hadn’t given the Pichus or Timburrs much of a second thought- they were just vibing and he could handle either if they decided to try jumping him. The trainer read the sign slowly before lifting his gaze back up towards the narrow walkway that risked falling over onto the cold stone far below. With the Noibats flying in the sky, it didn’t seem like the safest idea in the world- quick reactions or not even Terra might struggle to catch him so quickly. Once he had checked GRAY’s message on his SNAG and noticed how late it had gotten, he understood that he had a choice to make. But why did he feel like this was comparable to the festival he came across whole oceans for?

Tsuki did want to go. But when he saw Tristen and Freth. Or saw Keiko, Ter, and Yuna. Or Odd, Lykas, and- He pulled out his phone, responded ‘Be back later probably, I see a thing’, and made his way across Oni’s Maw. “Oh kid, but you said you were soooooo tired of almost dying every day with me, but that’s how you vacation?” he muttered, putting on a mock voice of his channeling master. “Now I’m going to make you do jumping jacks over a pit filled with hungry Houndours for twelve hours. Just for shits and giggles.”

Peeking once over the edge, the teenager let out a small whistle. Hopefully the local Pokemon weren’t- okay who was he kidding? You didn’t name a place Oni’s Maw unless the local wildlife were ready to square up at a moment’s notice. He kept an eye out as he crossed.

Without hesitation the Gimmighoul snatches the coin from Clare's hands, tipping the currency to its head as if to say 'thank ya ma'am', quickly taking and fixing the coin to its back before scrambling back to its Pokeball, vanishing with a flash of light as it runs to stash the ill-gotten gains... somewhere.

"It was trying to drown itself in the river where I threw a Pokedollar coin." The gambler explains, grateful that Gimmighoul's panhandling had been well-received for now. He picks the now-full capture capsule up and puts it back into his jacket. "You seem to know more about it than I or Tristen did, though he mentioned the same thing about it being odd that it didn't have a chest..." Darts thinks for a moment, tapping his fingers off his crest as he does so, rhythmically. "It seemed like it was a bit lost, to be honest with you. Something that small and... unwise tends to be devoured by the wilds long before it gets the chance to go leaping into a body of water. So I'm wondering the same thing as to how it got all the way out here."


Night came quickly, and with sandwich and drink done, Darts disposes of the bottle in a nearby recycling canister as the team starts to marshal. He hears Sub's instructions and nods, starting to head in that direction, but at the same time ends up locking eyes with Crystal briefly, noting the anger in the Solgaleo hybrid's eyes. She was STILL upset with him? That argument happened two days ago, he had hoped that she had some time and was going to simmer down by now. An uncharacteristic pang of anger ran through the Giratina hybrid, his jacket shivering a little as the team headed to the square in groups of two and three. Who does she think she is? What kind of weirdo holds a grudge over something as small as ducking out on her in HQ when she KNEW he couldn't talk about the mission Sub had sent him on. It was all for comic effect, and she has the audacity to still be mad over nothing? Even worse, she no doubt expects an apology over something this trivial. That clenched it, the Giratina hybrid decided. Let her be mad.



Following Clare and Gruntilda from a safe distance, after they broke off from their original conversation, Darts eyes the group of masks for sale with some trepidation. None of them were going to fit, for sure... but as he muses on it he thinks back to the encounter with Mister Shuzi earlier this morning. Seemed like he could just get away with his normal face, his crest fooling people into thinking he was wearing a very realistic Giratina mask. If only they knew HOW realistic.

The mask decision made, the jacketed Snagem made his way down into the festival proper. The town nearby had shut off almost all of its ambient lights to cut down on the light pollution, so the event itself was mostly lit by the stone lanterns that lined either side of the cobblework path and the strings of lights from the vendor's booths squeezed in amongst the rock fixtures, giving the whole event a cozy kind of glow. And it was PACKED with people, nearly every single person in the village had to be here, chatting, eating, and moving from stall to stall trying to take it all in.

Darts caught a titter of laughter and conversation coming from outside the town, accompanied with some loud 'bangs' that sounded more like an explosion than a firework. That must be from the Ogre Oustin' booth we passed on the way here... A massive structure with a line to match, running around in the dark wilderness outside of town wasn't the Giratina hybrid's idea of a good time, so he passed on it.

At first as he perused the booths, the lack of a mask made him self-conscious but that idea faded very quickly as soon as a group of rambunctious youths accosted him. "Raaaaar!" The leader of the group yelled, holding his hands up to accent his green and teal monster mask, trying to 'scare' the Snagem before the whole bunch of them ran off giggling, the littlest one in a Pikachu mask pausing to give him a respectful bow in apology briefly before she hustled off to catch up with her friends, a candy apple bobbing in one of her tiny hands.

Food was everywhere, it would be the worst environment if you were on a diet because not only were people chowing down around you but the air was rich with a mixture of strong scents. From the deep-fried smell of street noodles being prepared in a giant wok to the overwhelmingly sweet fragrance of melted sugar from the Candy Fruit Stand as they painstakingly dipped and presented their skewered treats, you couldn't really get away from the carnival atmosphere from any of your senses. As the kids laughed, roughoused, ate, and played amongst the crowds, the adults did the exact same thing, happy for a day to get in touch with their inner child. Behind the stalls serving food and trinkets there were carts serving up warm sake and cold beer to patrons of-age, helping keep the atmosphere jovial and the money flowing.

It was a lot to take in, and even though the dark was cut through with all of the lanterns and other joyous lighting, Darts thought back to the questions he had been struggling with earlier on the bus. This vacation had been nice, spending some time catching the Gimmighoul with Tristen had been great, even though the thought of the little Ghost getting loose here is enough for him to take a second to check that it was still secure in its ball. But still, he was still a bit of an outsider. When had he become all work and no play? It's the reason he caught the Gimmighoul, to be honest, he missed the days of avarice chasing and gambling before all of the Clan responsibilities had fallen on his plate. He examines some trinkets hanging from another booth, barely actually seeing them as he's lost in his own thoughts.

Monique had the right idea, he figured. She was content to know how lucky she was, and expressed it constantly. 'Lucky beyond a Chant', he thought she had said. But even still, he couldn't get away from the thought that in between all the business, wars, fighting, and other conflict they had dealt with that his life was slipping away between his fingers and he wasn't getting a whole lot of time to 'live' in between all of the moments. Make human connections, as that's what he still felt he was, hybrid status be damned. But how do you take control of a life? Find your purpose? Answering that would be worth more money than the gambler had ever seen, so there wasn't a eureka lightning bolt from the heavens to grant him an answer. Just cute little Marill ornaments hanging off the stand in front of him.

Once Monique finished climbing the final flight of stairs to the festival grounds, there it was in the sunset light: the Festival of Masks, the sole reason she and her fellow Snagems had even come to this obscure corner. People were milling about, checking out the stalls lining the path. Some sold clothing, including festival kimonos and outfits. Others sold food, savory and sweet, smells wafting out into the midway and steam from the noodles hitting the lantern.

If nobody noticed the Zoroark adjusting her Illusion, they'd see a young woman, hair all done up, in an indigo yukata. Getting to doll herself up like this made Monique think a lot of her Mama Sachi and, logically, of Kasumi. Sachi would have loved this, she thought. Who knows, maybe someone in her family tree came from here?

Having eaten with the Snagems earlier, Monique's stomach decided it did not need a full meal. But because of her class assignment, she found herself inspecting every booth. Including the Shaved Ice Stand. An attendant, wearing a mask of an angular, green design, spoke right up. "Well, hello, miss... What would you like?"

Monique was about to pass on the brightly colored ices when she spotted it: a flavor name. Alola Blue. Her attention was piqued. To see the name of her homeland on a dish so far from home? She just had to try it. "I'll have one of the Alola Blue." She rummaged in her bag for cash to pay, fishing out a 500-Poké Dollar note and handing it to the shopkeeper. He got a bowl and filled it with a scoop of shaved ice, which he then rounded off artistically, before introducing a shock of bright blue syrup, brighter than the blue on her Primarina's tail, and handing the concoction over along with a spoon.

Monique looked at it with some hesitation. She tried to figure out what made this shaved ice so Alolan. She took a spoon right into some of the bluest parts of the ice dome, a large chunk entering her mouth. The disappointment would have shown quite clearly if not for her Illusion. It was one-note, sticky-sweet, and overly cloying. Why did I let myself... That was one thing she'd struggled to get used to living in a not-post-apocalyptic reality. Everything is just so sweet! Her palate had not grown up with so much sugar because it was so rare, and she'd probably had more exposure to sweets—Flower City did have a few Milcery, after all—than most New Po residents. "This shaved ice is about as Alolan as..." she trailed off, unsure of what exactly to compare it to or which of her Pokémon might like to consume the rest of it. Kalama was still paralyzed from the encounter earlier, the new Pokémon probably had no strength, Wyrdeer would be too attention-grabbing...

"Alright, Aniani, let's see if you would like this." She took out a Poké Ball and sent out her Primarina, offering it the shaved ice. She nibbled on it for a few seconds, evidently happier with it than the sheriff of New Po because she wolfed down the remainder. "Riiii!" she sang happily.

"Well, I guess I know who gets to eat all my sweets next time..."

Freth and Tristen made their way, following the group off towards the festival area. It wasn’t long until Tristen in particular started to hear the festival musics and smell the aromas of various foods before anyone else had. Once they finally went up the stairs and made it to the festival grounds, Freth and Tristen would find it was a little bit of a wonder to behold. The various stalls that went down the grounds, from the various foods to the masks. From the games to the people which actually put in context just how many people were actually here. In truth, Freth in particular didn’t think there was that many people here in Kitakami; granted there still wasn’t a lot, but there were more than she given credit for. Enough for people to man stalls and serve all manner of treats or souvenirs of the year. Even given all of that, Tristen in particular started to understand what Perrin was getting at earlier about trying to get people to come to this region. For something with some vast cultural significance, it…really didn’t garner that much of attention on any other day. It felt as if something for the village to just have an excuse to get together. Nothing wrong with that mind, but with more moving out than coming into the village for any particular region, this made the festival a little on the less festive side than what it could be. It was probably still fun though to do, if nothing else.

Freth and Tristen started to go down the various stalls, looking at a very short distance at the various stalls. Tristen started to wonder if he wanted to take back a mask from one of the stalls. Not to wear mind, since they would never be able to fit on his face quite right. But to at the very least show off a nice handcrafted mask back at the academy for his report. Something else got Freth’s attention however. “…oh, yesssss.” She said, hovering over a couple of stalls and looking at the various spirits. Most notably… “Sake.”

“Sake?” Tristen spoke up. “Couldn’t you get that back in Jhoto?”

“No, you don’t understand.” Freth said. “This…is the real stuff. Not that mass produced, cheap stuff you would find at the spirits section in a grocery store or some package store. This is the finely made stuff with all the love you could imagine. Also, explains probably a good chunk of the rice fields out this way…can I?” she would ask the vendor to get a drink herself.

”You do realize that you shouldn’t have a whole lot of this stuff, right?” Eris spoke up. ”You might have been able to get away with it as an ice type hybrid, but as a psychic, hybrid or no, you still need to keep your abilities in check.”

”Come on, did you ever live a little? I know you had a rough go of it, but God, you can’t convince me that you didn’t hit up something. Don’t tempt me to look. Anyways, I’ll be fine. Besides, this isn't my first drink.”

”So they all say…”

Freth would receive her sake and gives it a nice, long, indulgent sip. “Oh yea…that’s good.” She then looked at Tristen, staring at her in confusion. “…what?”

“Can we go?” Tristen then asked. There were other things he wanted to look at and still wanted to see if he couldn’t find that man that Perrin told him about earlier.

“…” Freth looked back at the vendor. “One more for the road?”

[Festival of Masks - Kitakami Hall]

The Snagems, along with many others, would walk around Kitakami Hall and take in all that there was to see of the Festival of Masks. There were numerous vendors selling their wares, some games to be played, and performances being put on. There was something for everyone to get into as the merriment of the night of masks picked up.

[Traditional Mochi Making Demonstration]

A traditional mochi making demonstration would be going on in the middle of the festival, the show being ran by an old man of an Ambipom hybrid and his trio of Pokemon consisting of Ribombee, Dipplin, and Sinistcha, two of those three likely appearing strange to the Snagems. The Ambipom hybrid, Mitsuo, was front and center with two large wooden mortars on either side of him, said mortars filled with what he said was rice and other ingredients depending on the flavor of mochi he was making. Using his twin tails he would pound the rice inside the mortars with the faux fists on the end of said tails, making sure to point out the latex gloves he was wearing on them.

As he worked the mochi he would go about describing to the gather crowd how mochi was made, how you pound it over and over again until the right consistency is formed. He would also explain how his Pokemon helped him make mochi, not only by moving things around for him but also imparting sweetness and/or flavor to the mochi depending on the desired flavor. He had flavors such as green tea, red bean, honey, apple, cherry blossom, among others.

Besides the demonstration they were also selling mochi here as well, a younger woman of a Aipom hybrid manning the counter and selling off the various varieties of mochi to the people.

[Happy Requiem Mask Shop]

While there were many booths set up selling masks, ranging from homemade to mass produced, there was one booth that was particularly interesting, the Requiem Mask Shop. The shop was manned by a decidedly human person of indiscernible gender, their face covered by a black mask that resembled the belly of a Dusknoir, and their voice monotone. Floating around the booth were a couple of Duskull and both variants of Yamask, the ghosts belonging to the person running the booth, aiding in moving masks to and from possible patrons.

Speaking of the masks they were all a sight to behold, all clearly hand carved from wood and made with intricate patterns and designs, and to stare at one for too long made one feel like they were staring back. While many of the masks were designed after Pokemon they were never just their faces but other parts of them like a Weezing's symbol, Vullaby and Mandibuzz's skulls combined, or a Noivern's forehead and ears, things like that. The most interesting masks though were those that, according to them, were based on abstract things like the sound of a Zubat flock or the feeling of defeat. And no two masks were the same.

[Fortune Teller's Tent]

A fortune teller had come into town to do business as well, the fabric of the tent appearing ornate and foreign to Kitakami Hall. Inside the tent was an elderly man in a long rob with the hood up to cover his face, only his long white beard poking out from the darkness of the wood. His Rabsca floated sleepily over the table in front of him as they awaited patrons. Were certain Snagems here they might recognize this fortune teller.

[Ducklett Hunt]

An interesting little game booth was set up called 'Ducklett Hunt' where little fake wooden Ducklett shaped cut outs would move around, some times disappearing behind little wooden bushes. The name of the game was to use a Water type Pokemon's Water Gun (or as weak equivalent) to knock down as many Ducklett as possible within a certain amount of time but don't hit the Wooper! Hitting them deducts points. Also a much faster Swanna would sometimes appear, hit it for a lot of points! There was a prize of a mysterious (shiny) Pokemon Egg for anyone that broke the current high score.

(If you wish to try out for this just write up your challenge in a single post, I will then pick one person based on the quality of their post to win the Shiny Mystery Pokemon Egg. Bonus points if you make it humorous. Just have fun.)

[Loyal Three Battle Tribute]

An announcement was made asking for three volunteers to report to the hall's battlefield to participate in a battle tribute to the Loyal Three, a three on one battle against a stand in of the evil ogre. Must be something strong to take on three Pokemon.

[Ogre Outstin']

An announcement would be made alerting festival goers that Ogre Outstin' competition would be starting soon and if you were participating to please report to the desk.

Clare realized Darts had followed them up shortly after buying their mask, turning around on their heel and admiring the sights once again before spotting the Giratina hybrid looking rather dour as he walked through the festival grounds. "Hey! Sorry for running off earlier. That's so unlike me to be rude like that." They apologized, practically prancing over to him as they hurried back to his side. "Where's your little friend? I don't really know too much about them beyond their name and they're supposed to be really rare. I'd like to offer more but I haven't met anyone that knows much about them, yet." They asked, looking around to make sure Gimmighoul wasn't out and running about, in danger of getting itself stepped on.

"Anyway, don't look so serious! Why don't we go grab some snacks for later and see what's going on? I heard someone say there's a street performance in a bit: A reenactment of the Loyal Three's battle with the Ogre, I think?" They offered. That had sounded like it would be really fun to watch but why not watch it with their friends in Snagem instead of alone? They felt sure some of the others would also enjoy the show and Darts definitely looked like he could use a distraction. "Or... Do you want to talk?" They asked, calming themself down a bit as Gruntilda bounced up to them, offering Darts a small hug on his leg as she bounced in place. She wasn't sure what exactly was wrong, but she was definitely picking up that he was troubled. She hoped her hug helped but her trainer was talking to this hybrid, so maybe they could figure it out?!

Before Darts could even get a response out, they would hear the sound of a Pokeball popping open from their purse. The small bag at their side had been carrying their Pokemon just case, and they turned to spot Rasana, their Tyrunt, running off toward a nearby booth they hadn’t noticed before with all the lights and movement going on around it. “I’m so sorry!” They apologized to Darts before giving chase after the Royal Heir Pokemon.

“Runt!” Rasana roared cheerfully as he approached the booth, jumping up to stand on the counter and stare for a moment. Those ducks looked yummy! Unfortunately, there was a human in the way! As Rasana paced back and forth along the counter, the human seemed to be speaking to him. Was that panic? Alarm? Did the human think Rasana wanted to eat them? No, of course not. Human was too tough. And too much work. Those Ducklett, though? Those were ripe for hunting.

Dashing along the length of the counter to get around the human, Rasana attempted to leap past the human, only to find his foot suddenly grabbed.”No, Rasana!” Clare urged.”Those aren’t for eating!” They told the little Dragon-type. Rasana thrashed about in the hybrid grip, now hanging upside down as Clare held him up and looked him in the eyes. “This is a game, I think, not a buffet.” They assured the Rock-type. Rasana paused his thrashing for a moment at that comment. A game? He liked games! Games were fun! “Ty runt runt tyrun!” He growled back at his trainer, holding still at this point.

“Um… What’s the point of this game, exactly?” They asked the attendant who had been trying to defend the booth from Rasana’s hunger. After the explanation, it was followed by another comment, however. “Unfortunately, I can’t allow a Pokemon without a weak attack like Water Gun to participate… It would destroy the targets and ruin the fun for others.” The attendant apologized.

“Ty… runt?” Rasana tilted his head at that point. Was that all? A weak attack that wouldn’t destroy anything? He could do that! Hopping to the center of the counter and watching carefully, he would hold his short arms out, curling his claws together and condensing his energy within them. Ty-” He took a breath and as he released it, his flicked the claws of one little hand, sending a pebble-like scale shooting out like a bullet to strike a Ducklett figure, knocking it over.

“That was… Scale Shot, I think?” The attendant noted, walking over and looking at the target Rasana had hit, finding only the smallest of scratches in the paint. Nothing that couldn’t be easily repaired after the night was over, even if it took several shots like that. “Ok… As long as it uses Scale Shot and nothing stronger, I can let it play if you two would like?”

“What do you think, Rasana? You seemed really eager a minute ago, after all. I’ll even buy you a snack afterward if you want to make it up to you.” Clare asked, offering the tiny tyrant a bit of a bribe for his cooperation.

“Runt!” Rasana agreed, watching the Ducklet targets as they move across the little paths they were set on.

“Ok… So we just have to see how many we can knock over and get as many points as possible in the time limit, right?” Clare double checked.

“That’s it. You get 90 seconds to hit as many as possible and they’ll pick up speed as the game goes on. Hit the Swanna for bonus points but if you strike a Wooper, you’ll lose points. And you’ll earn a prize based on your final score!” The attendant finished, giving them both the confirmation they needed to decide they were ready.

“Alright, Rasana. Remember you’re only allowed to use Scale Shot for this, alright? You ready?” Clare asked, standing behind the Tyrunt. The little Kalosian fossil Pokemon nodded and his eyes grew wide for a moment before narrowing as he honed his focus in on the little Ducklett nuggets he’d be shooting at.

Holding his small clawed hands in front of himself and maintaining focus on his energy, Rasana began to form those pebble-sized scales one after another, shooting them at the Ducklett with ease. One, two, three, four, miss!

“Oh, no! Be careful to take aim first!” Clare warned as Rasana missed on the fifth shot. He was skipping every other target at first, taking the time to aim carefully but he hadn’t accounted for Scale Shot’s secondary effect. After the second use, he suddenly felt light and faster. Unfortunately, he couldn’t think faster so suddenly and had aimed improperly. Now that he remembered that could happen, he returned to shooting.

Five, six, seven, eight, Wooper!

“Uh oh! Remember to avoid the Wooper!” Clare exclaimed, their hands shooting up to cover their mouth as the Wooper target that had just popped up fell over as fast as it had appeared, making a soft, sad “Woooop!” sound.

“RuntruntTyrunt!” Rasana shouted, cursing himself and Clare both as he did. Himself for making a mistake again and Clare for bothering to point it out. Did the stupid human(was Clare a human? Did it even matter? He was gonna call them one anyway.) Have to point out his mistakes?!

Taking aim again, the small Pokemon took a breath and began to fling scales even faster as the Ducklett picked up speed. How long had it been? 15 seconds? 20 seconds?

“40 seconds left!” The attendant announced.

“Ty… runt?!” Rasana exclaimed. 50 seconds already and that was all the accurate shots he’d made?! “Runt runt…tyrunt…” He grumbled as he shot scales at the moving targets, eyes narrowed nearly to slits by this point.

Nine, ten, eleven, twelve, 13, Swanna!

Rasana flicked scales like a sharpshooter at this point, no longer aiming at every other Ducklett as it passed.

Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen.

“20 seconds left!” The attendant announced, watching in amusement as Rasana knocked down Ducklett target number 17 almost before it had even stood up, the conveyor moving the targets bringing them back around picking up speed for the last time.

Eighteen, nineteen, twenty, Swanna!


“You’ve got a little sharpshooter there, don’t you?!” The attendant asked Clare as Rasana took aim at Swanna, taking the shot that knocked it down for the second time only a half second before the chance was gone. “10, 9, 8-”

Twenty-one, twenty-two.


“6, 5, 4-”

Twenty-three, twenty-four, Wooper!

2,1. Time!”

“Ty…runt?!” Rasana yelped as time was called. Did his last shot really hit a Wooper? Had he ended the game on a bad move?! No! “Run runt! Tyrunt!” He demanded another go. This wasn’t fair!

“Rasana, no! You took your turn already! Let others have a chance before you try again. If You really want to try again, we’ll come back after the performance is over, ok?” Clare exclaimed, grabbing the Tyrunt with their single fully-formed arm and restraining the thrashing dinosaur as he threw a tantrum. Clearly the game was rigged to make him look bad! How could his last shot be a bad one?! He was a Tyrunt for Arceus’ sake. They were the kings of the wild. Well…princes, technically. But princes became kings and kings don’t make mistakes so that meant princes don’t make mistakes, either. So it had to be rigged, right?

“Runrunt tyrunt!” Gerrymandering! Fake news! This was all some kind of joke at his expense, right? He was the best! There had never been a Tyrunt who was as good a shot as him and there never would be. Even if they were a fake Tyrunt or even some kind of make-believe thing like an Agumon pretending to be a Tyrunt. “Runrunt runt tyrun ty tyrunt runt!”He exclaimed, thrashing in Clare’s arm, teeth gnashing as he threw his little fit. This was a witch hunt! How dare they do this to him!

“Calm down little guy…” The attendant assured him as Clare lifted him off the counter before he could jump at them, dropping him to the ground as they quickly dug out his Pokeball and recalling the small Dragon to his ball just as he took a flying leap toward the attendant, fangs first and maw wide open as he prepared to bite in retaliation. “You still earned a prize.” The attendant said, turning back from the prize wall with something in hand for them just as Rasana disappeared into his ball, not having witnessed the Tyrunt’s attempt to end them in one bite for daring to refuse him another attempt to prove his superiority.

“I’m so sorry! I don’t think I let him out enough and he gets rambunctious whenever he’s allowed out.” Clare apologized profusely, accepting whatever the attendant gave them before turning to go find Darts again, checking to make sure Rasana stayed in his ball along the way and anxiously checking back on it now and then afterward.”Sorry about that… I seem to keep running away on you today.” They apologized to the Giratina hybrid, curling a finger into their blonde hair as they did. “So…Did you want to come with me to watch the show?” They repeated their earlier question, not having heard Darts’ answer if he’d given one before they chased after Rasana.

Leslie's ears would perk up as she heard the announcement for the Ogre Oustin' that was about to begin. Looking towards her hammer, she would take out a length of vine that she had her Bulbasaur make for her a while ago and begin to tie the vine around the handle of her hammer. Nodding at her work, she would quickly loop the length of vine before attaching it to her hip as she shouldered the hammer once again. "Alright, Cera. Time to show them what we can do for this whole Oustin' thing." Leslie told her fellow participant, slowly beginning to make her walk towards the start line for the event. Although she wasn't opposed to any small detours from her eventual destination, there didn't seem to be anything jumping out to her directly. Except maybe the guy with the masks and the hooded guy with the funny bug. Those two were hard to not have jump out.

Tristen started to go down looking at the stalls, all with vendors that had food and drink to serve, souveniers to part way with, games to oversee. It was all looking pretty fun, in all honesty, in spite of having a small gathering such as this. It confused him a little with some things, like why would anyone be “the ogre” in a three versus one Pokémon battle? That did not seem like the best thing to take part of at all. “Tristen, if you aren’t going to figure out something to do, I’m probably going to drag you off to the side and I’ll pick something.”

“What? More sake?” It got a disapproving look out of Freth. “Besides, I kinda am trying to do something. I’m trying to find that mask maker I heard about.” Tristen said.

“Tristen, really…” Freth sipped the remainder of her second serving of sake before going to continue that sentence. “…the man is probably going to be trying to make masks for the people here, and is probably going to be more focused on that instead of wanting to tell any stories he knows about the ogre. I’m pretty certain there are people here that will do that anyways and you don’t need to bother him. And if nothing else, you could try to find him tomorrow anyways when the festival is over. You’ve been hard at it with your school work for the past month. As glad as I am that you are taking your school work seriously, please don’t be a Blizzard here.”

“I’m not trying to be Blizz, but as far as I can figure, this might be the best time to catch him. And besides, those others that talk about the legend of this ogre or anything like that will tell me nothing more than what I’ve already read in those pamphlets when I got here.”

“Then all the more reason to enjoy yourself.” Freth said. “Why not try a game out? What’s this ogre ousting thing going on over here?” Tristen would look over but then stare a bit deadpan when the two of them seeing Leslie out and about, ready to get started with whatever this game is. Though as far as the two of them were concerned, with Leslie involved…there was bound to be problems. Tristen would simply give a deadpan look to Freth. “…on second thought? Sub might not be too thrilled here in the next half hour…and we are not going to be witnesses to that.”

“Good idea.” Tristen said, walking off around the festival some more.

The two would continue on, taking in the sights until Freth noticed a odd mask stand. There were several other stalls, but this one…sort of stood out. The masks were designed as opposed to mass produced like the other stalls were. Specially tailored, it looked. “Happy Requ…hey Tristen? Is this what you’re looking for?” Freth asked.

“I dunno.” Tristen said, staring in confusion. “I…kinda didn’t ask for a description of the man that I was supposed to look for.”

“Oh come on, Tristen. Years with Snagem and you forget such a thing like that?”

“Sorry! Didn’t think about it!” Tristen said. “Let’s just ask and see…” Tristen would step forward towards the mask shop.