From: Dreadite <dreadite@tsoft.com> Subject: [PW!] The sirens in the dark, music of lost souls. Date: Friday, September 24, 1999 1:46 AM The sirens in the dark, music of the lost souls. P:OTP: I did some subtle character stuff, fun! More ensues. ----- The Sirens ----- The mist filled tunnels under Lavender, empty for ages except for the silence, mist, and the occasional Bat pokemon. The air was stale, dank, and heavy around the cloaked figure approaching the end of the tunnel. The shrouds of mist parting slowly around Dreadite, as if he were walking on the bottom of a water filled pool. No wind came to blow the mist away. Not that it could. Dreadite stepped from the tunnel into a crypt, lost for ages. Stone figures slowly crumbled over time, giving the statues around a dead, faceless look. But despite its years of neglect, the crypt was remarkably intact. The air smelled of the dead. As Dreadite walked, footprints in the dust behind him remained, seemingly in a vacuum. Dreadite looked around him, and his eyes focused on a raised tomb in front of him. It was a small pillar, with a platform atop, and stairs leading up. On a raised stand was a coffin, the death mask faded away over the years. The water from the ground above dripped in, signaling a storm above the deep rooms and passages. Dreadite stepped up to the coffin, and looked down at the face. "Hello father. It's been a while," Dreadite calmly said, resting a hand of the coffin. The coffin said nothing, just silence. Dreadite ran his fingers along the face carved in stone on the coffin, and smiled slightly. "Youth never faded for me, father. Just as you said, the fire never dies. But still, you died. Mortal with the seed of life within, you always were." Dreadite stepped to the side, and sat at the head of the coffin's table. He looked to the ceiling, and flicked his sword to his shoulder. "I've forgotten your birthday, father. I've forgotten mine. I've forgotten who mother was. I've forgotten everything. All that remains is survival, evil. Pain, father, pain." Dreadite lifted the top of the coffin, and looked in. The dust that was once a body rippled, leaving only metal shards in the coffin. Dreadite reached in, and grabbed a small pendant from about the neck area. He then closed the coffin again. "For memory, father. Dust to dust, yet the trinkets remain. I need the power it holds." "Still soul-searching?" Dreadite slowly looked over his shoulder. A old man stood in the doorway, his face hidden by dark shrouds. Dreadite stood up. "Still appearing as an apparition, I see. I defeated one of your physical forms." Darkness stepped into the room, and faded into the mist. He reappeared in the haze in from of Dreadite, flitting to stay in front of Dreadite as he paced the room. Darkness slowly smiled, and gestured to a throne on the side of the room. "Please, sit down." Dreadite smiled slightly, and did so. Darkness appeared in front of him, a ghostly table appearing between them, served for tea. Dreadite ignored Darkness as the apparition sipped his tea. "So sorry, I forget you're in the mortal coil. Not exactly where eternal life belongs, but you are somewhat mortal," Darkness said, finishing his tea. "I'd offer you some tea, but it's not as good in your reality." Dreadite reached out and gestured to tip over the teacup before him, mockingly. Darkness laughed a slow chuckle. "As dark as you become, you still keep your humor." "It's a rare quality, I assure you," stated Dreadite. "Oh, well. I feel more comfortable over tea," Darkness remarked, pouring another cup. Dreadite sat back in the throne, and Darkness looked up. "Bored are we? Well, you have an eternity to wait. Learn patience, it'd suit you." "I just thought I'd stop in for a chat, really. Evil spirits have so much busywork to do. Although I admit your speech was touching, in a good sort of way. But you're too long winded." "I didn't come here for a criticism, Darkness. What do you want?" Dreadite asked, a little annoyed. Darkness just gave a bemused look. "I'm here to ask nicely that you quit killing me. It gets annoying after two-hundred years, you know." "Tough luck, Darkness. They say patience is a virtue. Why don't you wait for someone to take my head?" "Because you're one of the keys to getting me back, that's why." Dreadite was about to answer Darkness, when a ghostly music drifted through the air. Darkness looked up. "My my, look at the time. Nice chatting with you." Dreadite stood up from the throne and stepped down to the crypt floor. Haunting melodies floated through the tunnels, calling to the figure within. Dreadite walked down the corridors, the darkness and silence broken by footsteps and the drifting notes. Dreadite walked down flights of stairs, following the music. As he drew closer, it gained more depth, gypsy-like sounds filling the air. Dreadite put away his sword as he stepped closer. The music had a calming effect, almost trance-like. Dreadite looked down the hallway, and noticed two lights, like torches. He walked towards them. Dreadite stepped into the room ahead, filled with the burning light of fires. Bonfires crackled, sending sparks into the air yet leaving no warmth. Dreadite walked through the fires, towards the group of figures sitting in the back of the chamber. Instruments in hand, they played away. None of them noticed the winged figure approaching. Dreadite sat in front of them on the floor, listening to the music. Suddenly, a chill rushed down him as the figures stopped playing. One of them looked up with empty eyes at the warrior, and then started playing again. The others followed, making one last drifting, haunting wave of music drift through the corridors. Dreadite looked at the apparent lead of the group, and gestured to the corridors. "How did you get here, spirits? This is holy ground." The lead just laughed, and flitted away. The fires disappeared, and light faded back into darkness. Dreadite looked down the hall, and saw the fires flicker back to life. He shook his head, and walked away. "Odd, the ghosts and the dead. Hardly caring, as if life had nothing to do with them," Dreadite mused. He walked up a flight of stairs, heading into the Pokemon Tower proper. The dead were no more use to him than ever. Behind him, the music wafted up again. Outside, Officer Jenny cocked her head to the side. "Troublemakers, with loud music. Don't kids know any better?" Dreadite stepped out of the tower behind the officer. The rain outside pattered around, drowning out the melody with the sound of water. Dreadite laughed. "Forgive me father. I am who I am." A bolt of lightning illuminated the sky, leaving Dreadite headed towards Saffron city. Inside the tower, a shinto miko raised her head slightly. "The evil ones have departed." A haunter floated dup behind the Channeler, and made an overly conserned face. "HAUNT!" "Of course I won't forget dinner, what did you think?" ----- Dreadite walked through the rain into Saffron, the clouds slowly lifting. The familiar crackle of sound, energy, and feeling made Dreadite look around cautiously. A trenchcoat wearing man stepped by him, and looked over at the winged figure, as if deciding something. Making up his mind, the man continued onward. Dreadite stopped, and stated something under his breath. "There can be only one father. If you had only lived to know, you would know why I am who I am." TBC? Maybe, probably, no doubt.-- Dreadite ------ "And here comes the question whether it is better to be loved rather than feared, or feared rather than loved. It might perhaps be answered that we should wish both; but since love and fear can hardly exist together, if we must choose between them, it is far safer to be feared than loved." --Machiavelli's 'The Prince'.