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Welcome to the Cafe du Watchog, also called RPGen. We're a sandbox style Pokemon site with a focus on everyday life in the Pokemon world. Trainers, Pokemon, criminals, cosmic forces, and normal citizens are all welcome to join in the fun. Kick back and enjoy a cup of coffee with us!

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Joined: 13-January 16
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Last Seen: Mar 25 2018, 08:38 PM
Local Time: Jul 19 2018, 06:26 PM
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My Content
Aug 19 2016, 11:56 PM
The sun beat down on the sands like a skybound furnace, heating everything in the area to the typical Orre temperature of "fucking hot". It was days like this that made Michael feel grateful for the water constantly pumping through Phenac's streets and around it's walls. He was actually proud of it, in a way: his dad had helped dig the new reservoirs that still allowed the city to keep it's beautiful water flowing.

But being back in Phenac wasn't really what Michael wanted to do right now. He'd had to leave Unova to come back home, leave his search for Cipher unattended while he gathered information, and that didn't sit right with him. Hell, it didn't sit right that he'd let Cipher keep a weed in the ground and allowed them to sprout back up in the first place. But this time, he wasn't going to let them slide by. Once he found Lovrina, he was going to get some hard answers, put a boot to their organization's head the size of which they'd never recover from.

He was angry, yeah. But at least everything wasn't bad. At least he had some company.

"Look," Michael nearly yelled, pointing out to an almost nondescript building, "that's the Pre Gym! I bet Justy's in there, whoopin' some new kids inta shape fer th' Colosseum!" He had said that Tara had needed to stay away from him for her own safety. He had meant it, no matter how bad it had hurt. But coming back to Orre, seeing his home again, it seemed like an almost perfect opportunity to sate that crippling loneliness he'd been feeling of late. Plus, she had said she'd wanted to see it all anyway, right?

"Ah, man, I'm sorry. I mighta gotten a bit loud. Gosh, it's been too long since I've been back in Phe-nac! Just, uh, let me know if I'm bein', uh, obnoxious or anythin'."
Jul 25 2016, 11:59 PM
If they were gonna have a serious conversation, then it was going to have to be private. Somewhere that nobody else would have the opportunity to throw in their two cents, and nowhere that Tara could hear.

Much as it hurt to say, keeping her out of whatever came next was essential.

Michael had made the bigger man escort him to one of the unused bedrooms, closing the door behind him once they were both inside.

"First off," he says as the door clicks shut, "I need to say that I am sorry fer breakin' down yer door, and suckerin' you in th' jaw. I realize now that y'all were keepin' my friend safe, and I was in th' wrong fer doin' that."

He leans against the door, arms crossed. "But whatever happens from here on out, I ain't sorry for. Now I don't know how you people in Unova do things, but home in Orre, we got a real simple way'a talkin'. One person asks a question, and one person answers."

His eyes narrow. "I'll go first. What do you know about Tara Mockin'bird?"
Apr 2 2016, 11:34 PM
Twelve hours.

Not like Michael had been counting.

Okay, he had. It had been a little worrying, when Tara hadn't checked back in. Yeah, they hadn't run into any trouble in a while, but they were still supposed to be keeping their heads down. He had hopes that she would check in, respond to his texts or calls, but by message 43 and voicemail 13, things started to get worrying.

So he'd taken to the streets, checking alleys and shopfronts, hoping that she'd just taken a wrong turn and decided to take a nice nap inside a dumpster or something. You know, just increasingly morbid, panicked thoughts to try and keep his mind from going straight to the worst possibility.

Currently, though, he's sitting in a chair just outside some fancy-named bistro. He'd been going for seven straight hours, and the relaxing open seat offered the chance to rest and refuel for another round-the-clock search for Tara.

"Please don't be dead . . . " He's mostly muttering to himself, staring into a half-drunk cup of coffee.
Feb 1 2016, 08:28 PM
It wasn't hard to find the number. He'd given it to him so long ago, but Michael had always kept it logged into his communicator. Dialing it, though?

That was a bit harder than he thought. Still, here went nothing.

-ring ring-
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