Thread: [Pokemon] Journeymon [RP]
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Old 12-22-2012, 03:50 AM
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Default Re: Journeymon [RP]

IDENTITY: Lee Thatcher, Psychic Boy Wonder
LOCATION: Aspertia City
CURRENTLY: Crapping Chaps

“~They got
All the right friends
In all the right places
So yeah… We’re goin’ down~”

Despite Lee’s rude abruptness, the stranger didn’t seem too impressed. In fact, he actually smirked rather cockily (or at least, that’s how it seemed to Lee).

“That ‘thing’, is Dojo,” the stranger spoke, ignoring Lee’s questions. “I wouldn’t insult her like that.”

Lee scoffed. “And why no—”

His unfinished question was answered soon enough. The upstart youngster jumped as something landed heavily behind him. A large shadow passed over him, accompanied by slow, deep breathing. Lee tensed, sensing that something very large and very agitated was right behind him. Gulping, the psychic slowly turned around. He soon found himself staring up at a set of sharp fangs and baleful eyes. The beast of a Pokemon growled, nearly causing Lee to, quote-unquote, crap his chaps.

“I’m also that guy’s owner,” Lee barely heard the stranger speak. “That’s Riptide, and we don’t call him that for no reason. He also doesn’t like it when you upset his buddies, and, well, you kinda just did that.”

Lee laughed weakly, trying to regain his earlier cheek but failing. “You got friends in high places, don’t you?”

The boy jumped again as the Feraligatr let out yet another threatening growl.

“Now, Lee is a pretty common name…” Riptide’s rather pleased owner started. “Does it come with a last one, or am I gonna have to get ol’ Rippy here to escort you out?”

The boy psychic scowled, realizing he had been upstaged rather quickly. He opened his mouth with some retort in mind, but before he could utter a single vowel a sharp psychic reprimand slashed through his mind.

<I don’t feel like being beat to a pulp today,> Shadow scolded. <So do us both a favor and give him your dumb name already.>

“Fine,” he muttered under his breath. He turned to Riptide’s owner with a discontented expression and replied, “Thatcher. Lee Thatcher.”

The boy had never been the submissive type—and he hated surrendering so quickly. But he knew when he was outgunned. However, he wasn’t about to let this stranger think he had him under control. Folding his arms across his chest, he defiantly demanded, “And you are?

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