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Forte POKEMON WILD AREA
SOMEWHERE IN THE ARCHIPELAGO

It's a nice day out. The pidgeys are singing and the beedrills are buzzing - well, they're going 'pidgey' and 'beedrill' anyway, which is singing/buzzing in their own way, and the flowers are in bloom - both the actual flowers and the flower pokemon. It's a nice unseasonably sunny day here.

A ranger is making her rounds, checking that all is as it should be. She stops, seeing a visitor. "Oh hey there," she says, finding a little strange that he's floating, but just figuring that that's how he is, we can't help how we're made, etc. "Here to catch some pokemon?"

"No," says the floating man, as he floats onward.

"Ah, just here to sightsee, are you? Also good."

He ignores her - floating up to his target, a porygon that's sunning itself on a rock. He reaches out, touches it...

"PORYGON - PORYGOª¬®±¢¶²§¥"

It just sort of dissolves, screaming the whole while.

"That's, um... that's... not normal," says the ranger, horrified, as the floating man approaches another porygon. "I mean literally it's normal type, but, um."

She reahes for her radio.

You all get the call.
Rubi-Kan Vagrants      The peace of the wild is disrupted by the roar of chemical thrusters, which surely sends normal-types fleeing for tall grass, flying-types likewise taking flight from their roosts. Unfortunately for the ranger, Bercilak is the man who answered. He dismounts the bike upon arriving, unarmored, massive, green. He looks and is dressed like a Biker save for that greenness. And, especially, save for the manner in which he speaks to her.

     Forte, presumably, is in sight. "Thou bade me here-awei to halt yon huntere," says Bercilak, gesturing towards whatever screaming Porygon Forte is currently vampirizing. "Yeve me one god reson whi I shouldst."

     Yes, that's right--not only is he likely difficult for contemporary ears to understand, he is actively demanding a reason to step in and intervene. "Hath thou ne'er espied a huntere? Wert thou unakkened that huntinge imenes the quellinge of bestes, that he might iete?"
Forte "He's - he's supposed to *catch* the pokemon, not, not, not do whatever it is he's doing to them!" says the ranger, exasperated.

"I'm eating them." says Forte, simply.

His head turns slightly, just enough to look at Bercilak out of the corner of his eyes.

"Because I'm hungry."

"Wha - no! You're not supposed to do that! That's all wrong!"
Rubi-Kan Vagrants      Bercilak's face screws up into a confused frown. "Whi is hit 'al uniriht?'" Yes. Unright. "This is the wilde, nay? What-sum-ever elles wouldst iman do with bestes in the wilde, but hunte theim for his own ietinge?" The Green Knight's bike turns off, falling to the ground with a heavy thud. He reaches out and tugs at the collar of the ranger's uniform.

     "Art thou not wardein of yon wilde? Iman is ahungred," says Bercilak, gesturing to Forte with a beefy hand. "What is that to thee, so long as he ietes not mo thanne the wilde may sustein?"
Forte "What? No! Pokemon are our friends! Our allies! Hunting them and eating them is wrong! Nobody eats pokemon!"

With perfect timing, a pidgey lands on a caterpie in the background and starts tearing it open with its beak.

"Okay fine - no *human* eats pokemon!"

"Not human," says Forte, who's hunted down another of the blocky things to absorb.

The ranger considers Bercilak, considers Forte...

... And then goes off to ranger somewhere else, deciding that discretion is the better part of valor against two presumably elites.

"... Thank you," says Forte, not looking over at Bercilak.
Rubi-Kan Vagrants      "Ithinke naughte of hit," says Bercilak. "I knoue not whi a wardein of the wilde wouldst ifinde perplexite with iman aboute a hunte." The bike disappears, swallowed by some sort of blue light. "Long as thy prei be not endaungered, long as thou iete not mo thanne the wilde may sustein, thou shalt not ifinde me thy adversaunt."

     Chuckling, Bercilak thuds his way over to Forte, motorcycle boots flattening the grass and snapping twigs in his wake. "Bercilak of the High Wasteland am I, so als the Green Knight. Not mannish am I, either--not wholli, lanhure. Part mannish, and part wilde is Bercilak. What is thy name, thou unmannish hunter?"
Forte "Forte", says Forte, and ordinarily he'd leave it at that with no further response.

However - some part of him, some small part, the part that's also wholly responsible for him emerging from his self-imposed exile and joining the watch and, really, doing anything at all besides 'floating silently at the end of the deepest part of the undernet', that part pushes him to elaborate and to keep the conversation going.

"Part wild would describe me also, I suppose," says Forte as he tracks down another of the creatures and absorbs it. "It's that part that creates this gnawing hunger that is only suppressed, never sated."
Rubi-Kan Vagrants      "Thanne I incuse thee even lasse, Forte." The creatures which Forte hunts appear to be digital--Bercilak might be one of the Multiverse's premier fight idiots at present, but he isn't totally some raucous frat boy. Digital as they may be, they are still creatures, which behave as creatures do, after a fashion. All it would take to help Forte, and to keep him from eating those Porygon with young to raise, is some brief study.

     "I shalt assist thee yet mo, I wis." He strokes his beard, taking note of those which flee as Forte feeds. Are there young present? Fleeing alongside them? Do these digital creatures lay eggs, or bud, as starfish do? "...That we might forsleu thy hungre, withoute makinge unfruitened thither wildes. Come! We shalt hunte togeder, and I shalt bigie thy hands."
Forte They seem to reproduce *somehow*, there are ones that are clearly older or younger, and some different subspecies that seem more mature than others... just in general Bercilalk can sort of divine a pattern to follow to steer Forte away from ones that'd do more to keep the species from not being locally wiped out and towards ones that don't carry as much ecosystem-bearing weight.

And while Forte might claim gnawing, unsatable hunger, he does seem to be pursuing the quarry a bit less and less aggressively with each catch.

"The Green Knight - that sounds like a fable I heard," says Forte, during some hunting downtime.
Rubi-Kan Vagrants      "I am he," says Bercilak with a nod. "'Tis mine to test the mesure of al which resons," he adds, tapping a finger to his temple. He can't say 'of men' because there are a lot of people out here that aren't human, such as Forte. "To assist theim in greueing, and to quell that which sekes to halt the ilksame."

     He has indeed noticed that, the more he assists Forte, the less savage his hunger. He seems pleased with this, nodding after each catch. "So als doth I guard the chaunge bituhhen winter and sprenge," adds the Green Knight in passing. "But everi-bodi hath a stori, be thei legend or nay. What manere of stori is the fable of Forte?"
Forte "The tale of Forte..."

Forte apparently feels sated enough to stop hunting and go into storytime.

"... Is the fable of Frankenstein, had the doctor joined the mob."

He throws back his cloak, revealing the large scar across his chest.

"Blamed for an apocalypse I did not commit. Feared for being too powerful. Driven to the depths of my world, where I've had to consume and become the terrors there in order to survive."

"And I survived."
Rubi-Kan Vagrants      Bercilak's brow furrows. Frankenstein... what has survived the passage of time, and what hasn't, is a spotty patchwork. That tends to be the case even when there isn't an apocalypse. The name is familiar, vaguely. The story is not. But Forte's expounding on the example is enough for him to see the shape of it. Especially with the scar.

     "Verily," says the Green Knight, "Thou hath! And I reverence thee thusly." He gives Forte a measured pat on the back, knowing well his own strength. For a guy whose general presence is that of an obnoxious jock in town to paint the place red, Bercilak is often fairly perceptive. He adds, after his shoulder-pat,

     "Yet, thou didst comen from the depths, not onli to iete, I trow. Bitell me, Forte--what shalt thou do with thy hard-erned lif, nau that thou hath hit?"
Forte Forte accepts the pat on the back. There is a suggestion in the air that he might not have accepted anything more intimate or involved than that careful pat.

"... I asked myself that question," says the navi, his cloak falling back into place.

"My world unified. There was a warpgate I could access not far from the depths where I dwelled - I took it, almost without thinking, definitely without realizing what it meant or where it lead."

"... And there's a chance for... a new start, I suppose."

He stops floating, his feet touching down, and he finds a narratively convenient stump to sit down on. He looks around, as if taking in the scenery for the first time.

"I'd like to keep others from suffering my fate. From having their whole worlds turn against them for things they didn't do. I figured that was worthwhile. That was worth spending a 'hard-earned life' on."

"I suppose I should want revenge, vindication, justice for myself, somethhing like that, but... honestly, I think I'm happier just declaring that I'm done with my old world and moving on."
Rubi-Kan Vagrants      Would he be happier shifting his focus away from revenge? "Thou shalt be," nods Bercilak knowingly. "For al be that thou wert misgilted, 'tis selde that wrakedom yeves thee what thou treuli lest. What thou treuli nede."

     The biker-knight extends a muscled arm, and into his waiting hand, conjured from the same blue light which dissolved his bike, there appears an enormous axe. He taps the butt of the haft gently against the ground. There springs, opposite Forte's narratively convenient stump, a stubby sapling which grows into a stump large enough to seat all seven-and-a-half feet of Bercilak. The axe disappears after.

     "Ah." He grunts as he takes a seat. "Thy awening is treu, Forte. In savinge otheres from thire own misbegiltinge, thou shalt find glathenesse. Bisideforth, the wounds thou suffered--" he taps his own chest with a thick finger. "Shalt uphele, in thy labourage."

     "I hath demed thee worthi," he says matter-of-factly. "And forthy might thou call 'pon me whanne-sum-ever thou lest."
Forte Forte takes a bit to translate all of that in his head.

"Would that such wounds would be so easy to heal," he says, not *quite* buying into Bercilak's philosophy.

"... But thank you, regardless."

"You say I may call upon you - I may call upon you to *stop* me one day. Random data creatures in the wilderness are one thing. Important data such as, say, the records of a children's hospital are another thing. I can try to steer the hunger - but I cannot stop from trying to sate it, when it happens."
Rubi-Kan Vagrants      "Verily," says Bercilak. "It shalt be difficultuous, for thy inner hurts to uphele. But thire art god ifolke in the Watch who shalt be glathe to assist thee, no mattere hau longe thy helinge must take." He smiles softly, leaning forward on his stump as if to study Forte. Hmmm... "It spekes wel of thee, that thou wouldst ofaxe me to halt thee, bifore thy ahungringe forwounds the ungilti. I shalt, whanne-so I must." Yes--apparently he's decided that they're friends now, too.

     "Thou may ifinde me withinne the world of Rubi-ka. Thire, mine hom loten withinne the Shadowlands. The ruins of Adonis shalt thou seke ther-awei, and I glathe shalt I be in having thee as gestenere." There are a few others he knows of, who he might describe as good people willing to help. "Elles that, Robin Sundance, the Masked Ranger Thef, oth the purpured Roidmude, Chase. Theim might I bisaie art wel imening, god ifolke, and glathe als wouldst thei be to assist thee."
Forte Forte nods. "I shall keep this in mind." It doesn't sound like he's convinced by words alone as to who a good trustworthy person is and is not, but he's willing to consider things.

"If I may, also, call upon your power in part..."

He holds out a hand, palm up. It crackles with a bit of energy.

"My abilities let me borrow a little bit of strength. If you accept, be warned it does sting a bit."
Rubi-Kan Vagrants      "VERILY!" he bellows. It seems like the prospect of it stinging a little bit makes him all the more eager to lend his strength. What a strange man. Bercilak rises from his stump and stances the fuck up, like he just dared a friend to kick him in the chest as hard as possible.
Forte "Alright then," says Forte, getting up to his feet, and then getting off of his feet (floating).

-=--=--=-COSACK INDUSTRIES - AUTONAVI.SYS-=--=--=-
-=--=--=--GETABILITY.BAT READ MODE READY--=--=--=-
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=-EXECUTE--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

Forte's glowing hand grabs Bercilak's arm - briefly, just briefly. It stings like touching a hot stove, with the implication that if he was trying to actually use it as an attack and not a brief grab it'd sting a lot *more*.
Rubi-Kan Vagrants      Bercilak doesn't flinch. "Ah, refreiting! Bahahaha." He throws his head back for a little belly-laugh, mohawk flipping briefly as he does.

     The Green Knight is a curious figure of legend; a man who appears, at first, to do harm, only to reveal later that his actions served a greater, unseen good. He is just as capable of taking life as he is of mending or healing. The battlechip which Forte receives from him reflects this duality.

     The Summer Rose is a melee program--a greatsword whose attacks cause thorny roses to grow on whatever it strikes, rapidly crumbling solid structures or causing opponents to wither. A small measure of the roses' energy is passed to the wielder, allowing them to passively heal at a slow rate between battles.
Forte Forte loads the data in.

"... Thank you," he says.

"For now, let's leave this place, shall we? I'm starting to wonder if that ranger will be back with backup if we stick around too long."