The Palace of Role Play

 Natrix could not help but laugh at his less than warm reception. The merman clearly did not like him, but Natrix simply gave his usual smirk, his tail flicking about with interest, because clearly he had found someone that would be fun to pick on.

 "While you're breaking the ice on the lake you should try to chisel some off of your heart, as well, that cold shoulder of yours could bring about the next ice age," he taunted, sticking out his somewhat longer than average tongue as he did so.

 He heard a groaning sound somewhat close to them and turned about to spot his loyal pet - whom had again fallen down in the snow.

 "Ghhawrrr," it groaned, bringing itself to it's feet again - with great difficulty as he only had one arm to do this with and the whole of his body was quite stiff.

 "No, no, I haven't forgotten why we're out here, I am merely asking out comrades to keep an eye out for your arm," he ran his fingers through his hair, wondering where the limb might have gotten off to. "I don't suppose one of the others considered it a snack," he suddenly mused, absently beginning to follow after Nico and the others.

 "Arghwwhhhaw," it listlessly gestured with it's remaining hand.

 "You're right, I crossed the line on that one, my apologies." He exhaled a little, flexing his leathery wings.

Though it was late in the day, nearing three in the afternoon, the room was dark, curtains were pulled to block out any and all light that tried to peek in from the outside world. There was a single faint light within the room, the glow of a burning cigarette, which was propped between Jacoby's parched lips as he stared towards the ceiling. He exhaled, smoke billow from between his barely parted lips. He lay still, huffing and puffing at the cigarette until it was nothing more than a filter that burned out.

 Wordlessly he flicked it into a empty beer bottle that rest beside his bed. His hands stretched out in the darkness, groping for his bedside table and the carton of cigarette that he had purchased the day before - only to discover that they were all gone.

It had been another sleepless night, one that weighed particularly heavily upon his mind. It had been two torturous months since his younger sister, his father, and his uncle had all vanished, seeming having fallen off the face of the planet. There had been no real trace of any of the three, and it was becoming something of a legend amongst the townsfolk.

Kylie's cell phone had been found on the side of the road, between their home and that of Gabriel, their uncle. Glass had everywhere, all the street lights were broken, they speculated that whomever was responsible for her disappearance had done this to prevent anyone witnessing his crimes, and it had worked. No one had seen so much as a trace of the girl that night.

Then there was Gabriel. They went to his home, his front door was open, which was not unusual, though everything in his home was left on. His supper was sitting on the table, barely touched, a kettle was on the stove. The water had long been evaporated and the kettle was burnt as black as ink, but there was no sign of him either. No one had spotted him leaving his house. His car, backpack, everything besides his wallet was within his home, and he certainly wasn't one to just up an leave, he much more responsible than that.

Finally, there was Jeremy. Within their residence there was hints of a crime scene. A broken television, his wife's cut up clothing, toppled furniture. The cell phone with the message from Eve, saying that she would never return.

Everyone had a field day with their speculations, which had become horror stories. Stories of how Jeremy had lost his mind, killed his brother and youngest child, leaving their bodies somewhere in his house before fleeing. There were many different versions, in some he simply kidnapped Kylie and ran, in others he killed her, but there were those who believed that Jeremy saw Eve in their daughter, and after having lost his mind, tried to take the girl, as a replacement for her mother. Some said Gabriel caught wind of this abuse and when he tried to intervene Jeremy had killed them both.

These obscene rumors and horror stories had ruined Jacoby. Not only was he left alone, for he had not heard from his mother since the day she left, and his older sister had severed all ties with the town and the bag social stigma now attached to their family name, but the way that the townsfolk looked at him ate him alive. There was no pity in their eyes, only fear, detestment, and a morbid curiosity for the truth.

He also yearned for this truth, to put everything at bay, but he had not gotten anything, and the police had long given up. Three of the people that he held dearest were gone, and he was the only soul in the world that cared about it.

Jacoby rose his right hand to his face, rubbing a little at his eyes, which threatened to water. He felt so weak, so broken, that he could hardly stand to go on. As his fingers touched his face, his left hand rose to his right, caressing the gash that was still prominent there, running along the length of his arm. A month ago he had tried to kill himself, and he had come within an inch of death when someone thought it appropriate to save him. A cruelty that he did not feel he deserved.

He had battled depression, but it had skyrocketed when his family fell apart. He no longer had a reason to live. No on to love, no one to protect, no one to look after or to pester. Even the friends that he held dear had abandoned him. Truly, the Evans' name was a curse, but he could not find the strength to change it to his mother's last name, for she had so willingly cast him out into the cold world to be left on his own.

 Jacoby shook a little where he lay. Two months may not have seemed a long time to most, but in this time he had battled with an addiction to alcohol, that he had picked up not a day after everyone had disappeared. He drowned himself in the stuff, and he didn't just get drunk, he always drank to an extent that put his life in danger, not that it really mattered to him.

It was only recently that he decided he had to control himself, and it wasn't even because he wanted to or because he felt he would be better off, he just kept thinking how his sister and father would be disappointed to see him in such a sorry state. This gave him enough willpower to cut back, though he could not give it up entirely. Jacoby could not deny that the alcohol took the edge off, something he still direly needed.

 Slowly he inhaled, wrinkling his nose as the cigarette smoke still hung in the air. He brought himself to a sitting position, did a little groping for his lamp and promptly switched it on, lighting up the room - which looked like a disaster area. Clothes, beer bottles, everything was strewn across the floor, and yet in all the chaos there saw a perfectly clean desk, organized with a single sketchbook on top of it, as well as writing utensils.

He swung his legs around to the edge of the bed, sitting there in just his pajama bottoms as he gazed around. His eyes were green, and his body had several detailed tattoos that he had designed himself, for it had been his passion in life. He was a tattoo artist, and he had been a rather promising one, before life had stabbed in the back and created the train wreck that he was at present.

Jacoby made his way to the desk, picking up a beer bottle, a full one, which he tore open with his bare hand, obvious to the physical pain for it was eternally overshadowed by his emotional distress. He stuck out his tongue a little, as it felt dry. A sing stud ran through it, a piercing that he had gotten some many years ago. Similarly bottom lip was pierced on both sides (called snake bites) and a one of his ears had three studs running in a line starting at the lobe.

Retracting his tongue he took a drink, a rather long one, stumbling through the mess and to the desk, which he regarded carefully, for he did not even set his beer down upon it, rather placed it upon the floor.

He pulled out the chair alongside it, sitting himself, bracing himself as he opened his sketchbook, flipping through the pages. The same three people appeared over and over again, and this trio was the only thing in the entirety of the sketchbook, the only people in the world that he wished to see, and the only ones that he would likely never lay eyes upon again.

Pushing the sketchbook away as tears swelled in his eyes, Jacoby lay his heavy head down upon the desk and simply sobbed. Every day was the same as this. Long, hard. Lonely. Though he tried to motivate himself, tried to soldier on, the burden on his mind made it extremely hard for him to move on. He wanted to dearly, he knew that his father, uncle and sister would all want him to be happy, but he could not. There was nothing in the world for him.

 He bleakly recalled the 'friends' that had so kindly cast him aside when he needed them the most. The girlfriend that left him because he was too caught up in his own emotions to be able to tend to her every beck and call. The boss that had fired him for being 'unreliable,' when he was in fact over come by grief.

 It was certainly true that there was nothing in the world for him, besides unanswered questions and a feeling of being diseased. All he wanted, no, all he NEEDED, was for one person to reach out for him. Just one. Just one person who could reach out, touch his heart, and assure him that things would be okay.

 In two months he hadn't found that person, or anyone, that had cared enough to try this. Not even his remaining sibling, whom had cast aside their family name and run off with a boy.

 Truly, Jacoby was alone in the world.

 He had also come to accept that his family would not be returning to him. It was a painful realization, one that assured him would help him to move on, but how could it? How could he possibly get over what had happened? He wasn't even sure what had happened, how could they possibly know? How could they possible understand?

 They couldn't, he glumly told himself, raising his head from the table and pushing out the chair slightly. He reached for the bottle of beer, then froze. Across the room he had spotted several bottles of medication, all calling out to him. Their offered was tempting, truly, and he found himself moving towards his closet, where he grabbed a bottle of whiskey that he had hidden from himself, before making his way towards them.

 He could end his misery, and he could do it painlessly. Was it really better for him to be left behind in misery? Or would he be happier to join his family in the afterlife?

 Well, people said that suicide was the greatest sin, so he was probably hell bound, but Jacoby liked to believe that God would understand his pain. After all, he hadn't sent anyone to make his life better, hadn't given him back his family, so surely he wanted Jacoby to join him?

 It was twisted logic, perhaps, but Jacoby was desperate. His mind wanted to believe that this was the right thing to do, and so he convinced himself that it was. There was no other way. Eventually he would destroy himself regardless, and frankly he would get it done and over with rather than extending an already outlived life.

 He sat on the edge of his bed, various pill containers having been popped open, he splayed their contents over the sheets. First, he downed several sleeping pills, washing them down with whiskey. He waited patiently then, until he began to feel it, that chemically educed sense of sleep that felt as though it added fifty pounds to him.

 When it struck, which took about ten minutes, he just began to swallow pills like candy, a few at a time, each followed by a splash of whiskey. It did not take long for him to pass out, be it from the pills or the alcohol (most likely both), and as he fell back onto his bed the bottle of whiskey fell to the floor, shattering, spilling it aromatic contents over the floorboards and the mess that was upon them. His breathing was shallow, slowing, growing quieter, quieter.

 Before long his chest had stopped heaving at all, and without so much as a single sensation of pain he passed on to become, leaving behind an attractive corpse, and yet another part of the towns biggest mystery; the Evans' family.

I can kind of see how a Pokemon forcing itself out of a pokeball could cause it to short circuit and cease to work.

 I guess it also makes sense to be able to fix them, too. I imagine that it wouldn't be too costly. If it cost more than buying a new pokeball than no one would probably bother to get them repaired.

 maybe the pokeballs can be recycled? Like, bring your old pokeball to a depot and get a couple of dollars back for it. Better than nothing. =P

Sorry for the double post, but behind!

Lined!

Enjoy. :3

Well, I never thought they floated anyways, so it's all good. XD

Hm, what shall the child level be? Betamon?

 Natrix and his pet continued to observe the other castle dwellers at a distance, the incubus clearly intruiged by the sight of the odd arrangement of creatures that had formed a party.

 "I wonder what they're doing," mused the demon, his wings flapping slightly as he continued to float along through the air, occasionally circling this or that before making his way back to the path that the zombie had earlier made.

 "Waghwaghrargh," the zombie grunted, as it tripped in the snow - landing face down and struggling to rise.

 "Hm, I suppose asking would indeed be the easiest way to find out!" Natrix chimed, then surged forwards, his large, leathery wings flapping harder as he zoomed towards them.

 The zombie, face down in the snow, managed to raise the one arm that was still attached to it's body, and waved to it's master, whom was long gone. Nibbler let out a grunt, slowly managing to bring himself to his decayed feet.

 "Helllooooo!" Natrix greeted, his tone as sensual and seductive as ever. He had 'emerged' behind Cassie, having approached the group from behind, though he still did not allow himself to touch down in the snow. His shoes were just too pretty to get wet!

Yepyep, I'm fine with trying full board.

 And as for the sign ups, I think that 'one board per character' thing should work fine, that way there's no scrolling through pages of discussion looking for sign ups. And you could always make a character directory for them. :3