#askscylla

Axel was startled by the Clefable’s sudden questioning, “W-Well… I… uh… okay”

Onyedi couldn’t help but scowl at this girl’s tone. Although he could guess this is how she was, a hint of irritability twitched in his chiseled face at her choice of words. To the Conkeldurr, it was aggravating, but nothing close enough to send him over. The question about killing, the excited yearning to learn the gory details, however, kept his glare plastered on his face. Who was this disturbing young woman, one who would ask such a morbid question in such a cutesy and admiring voice?

Nevertheless, she proposed a question, and it was a question regarding a part of him that not many people would be keen on asking. When would he get a chance to talk about this? Even if she might not understand the gravity, given her personality? It was worth a shot.

A spin of his neck with a pop… and there, he was ready.

“Hrm. I will say this much; killing is not my profession. I am a mercenary, a warrior, above all else. Or at least, it would still be, had I not been tied up in… unforeseen circumstances. However… there is one point in time of my life where I did end another beast’s life back in my old home, before I moved elsewhere to become a battler for pay. It was before I was fitted with this prosthetic weapon,” the Conkeldurr mused aloud as he looked at his massive metal arm, clenching it smoothly before turning it over, addressing the eerie scalps on top of the fist and on his shoulder.

“Aggrons,” he muttered, “Aggrons that invaded my old home and robbed my people of our treasure, our precious stones and caves rich with ores, just so they could eat. More beasts driven by instinct… ravaging my old village of our resources. If they were not stopped, we would’ve been left with nothing, and perhaps even less, since they seemed to hunger for flesh as well.”

It was then that Onyedi firmly patted the scalps fitted over his weaponized prosthetic for emphasis, lost in recollection.

“These are considered not as prizes over my victory, but as warnings for any other malicious raider who dares try to ruin the stability, the very living of my people, as well as myself.”

Joachim’s facial expression slowly changed to a more concerned one. This Pokemon seemed nice enough, but he couldn’t help but find her a little unnerving even still.

“We aren’t famous,” he said. “We’re just a local group. Maybe one day, though? That’d be nice.” he gave her a smile, but it was a not so subtly forced one.

“So, I don’t think we need a bodyguard or anything! We’re fine! Thanks for the offer though?”

This right here is a crackship from hell ladies and gents. Look at their kid, she looks so bizarre and scary! I imagine she’d probably grow tired of forcing her natural blades out all the time and dealing with blood, so I figured she’d have her own weapons custom-made, a la mother. Or if she were to be more morbid, she probably had her blades surgically removed and then altered/upgraded into said weapons. Who knows I dunno, either way this was a fun design to toy with :D;