Pokemon Team Temporal: The Sepia Gentleman

The Time Line has esckewed. Events that were suppose to happen have occurred in the world of Pokemon. Causing the formation of Team Temporal.
Team Temporal is a group of pokemon criminals noted for time paradoxes and detonating buildings in every town they come to. They are the creators of Team Rocket.
They are also the only people who can save us.
This started off as Pokemon Sepia on the Bob and George Forums.

Originally posted on: February 20, 2009 by Eternal Berg ( BSTF ).


Vermil woke up in a cold, cold room. Amid the haze of blurred vision and stunted hearing, his touch still revealed the smooth, almost crystaline floor on which he had fallen. He was amazed that he wasn't hurt, able to tell even in his damaged state that he had fallen a great distance. Surprisingly, he wasn't hurt at all. His eyes and ears the only things affected. As he slowly clamoured to his feet, Vermil began to realise that neither his eyes or ears were truly affected by anything. The strange noises he heard were simply echoes, exaggerated by the crystaline structure surrounding him, his eyesight thrown by the lack of a surface that did not reflect everything around him in six different angles. 

“Hey, kid... Are you down there? Call out if you are.”

A sudden voice split the echoed sound of nothing that had dulled Vermil's ears. The sound was certainly loud, but almost painful. 

“I'm here!” Vermil shouted, but not overly loud. He worried about the effects it would have if he spoke too loudly.

“I can't hear you very well... Are you a Boy? Or a Girl?” A strange question, just as loud.

“I'm a Boy!” Vermil kept his volume, opting to save his ears rather than his life.

“Sorry, I still can't hear you... What is your name?” No luck.

“It's Vermil!” One last try.

“What?” Still no luck.

“IT'S VERMIL!” Vermil screamed at the top of his lungs. The entire cavern shook around him, as if it were a giant, rousing from it's slumber, or a city, rocked by an earthquake. The entire structure seemed to glisten anew, however, a concept that Vermil found exceptionally strange.

“Vermil? Okay... Hey, anyone around here know a Vermil? Okay... There's somebody here who says he's your friend... What is His Name?” Vermil wasn't sure who was being asked that question, but he felt a need to answer.

“Is that Cinnabar?” He was a little frantic. The memory of what happened was slowly coming back. He had fallen, but Cinnabar had been there too... Was it just luck that spared Cinnabar?

“He says his name is Cinnabar! Look, just wait there! We'll get you out soon!” A promise, Vermil expected, that would be difficult to keep. The caverns had long been made off-limits, for what reason he was unsure. Aurrand Island had once been a centre of mysticism, but only a small few dared hold on to the traditions. Enough to protect them, not enough to keep them alive. He would have to do his best to find his own way out, a task he did not like the sound of.


“This is Gabby Newssom reporting for Cyren News One. We're standing here outside the Abandoned Cave here on Aurrand Island, where a teenager has become trapped after the roof of the cave fell beneath his feet. No one has been in the cave for years, leaving few skilled in navigating the passages to the location of the young man. By tradition, only certain village officials are allowed access to the Cave, a tradition that no would-be rescuers are willing to break. This has been Gabby Newssom, for Cyren News One.”


It was twenty minutes before Vermil found anything of note. The crystal walls were dull and muted, with only a faint light shining through them. It seemed that, following the only Tunnel he could, he had progressed almost as deep into the cave as he could go. A door stood before him, it's structure intrinsically similar to the cavern's walls yet unquestionably different. It was colder, more rigid... It was ice. He placed his hand lightly on the wall, simply to feel it, only to find it give way, moving aside and allowing him to pass with ease. 

Five minutes later, the same event occurred again, this time with a door made of solid stone. It slid away easily, revealing yet another passage. Vermil began edging down it, noting that the light which had filtered through the crystal was becoming stronger, as if it was the source of it, the origin of the light that had some how inexplicably drawn him towards itself. It was, he hoped, the cavern entrance. 

It took just one minute of cautious walking for Vermil to find a third door. This one was made of what seemed to be a man-made structure, a steel-like door that once again opened before he could properly examine it. He could see from this point, not having even stepped through yet, that there were three doors on the other side of the steel one. Each was split in three, the top left showing a symbol of flame, the top right a symbol of lighting and the bottom of a symbol of water. Uncertain how to progress, he simply chose the one to the right, which stood higher than the other, atop a flight of stairs, whereas one other sunk, via stairs, into the ground and the final sat at ground level. 

The raised door led him to a circular room, to which the other two connected also. Vermil's door lead him to a sort of stone awning that circled the upper section of the room. The sunken door appeared to lead to a similar encircling path that was instead carved into the floor. Only the ground-level door opened on to the main area of the room, despite both raised and depressed paths leading to it upon their completion. 

After carefully tracing the paths, Vermil came to stand in the middle of the room. A lone statue, seemingly carved from the same muted, dull and colorless crystal as the walls stood there, a faceless man, holding his hand towards the roof of the structure. As Vermil gazed up, he saw the source of the light, an opening in the ceiling. It could only possibly be the top of Mount Aurrand, but he had always been told it was an extinct volcano. He began to examine the statue more closely, reading words carved into the base. They didn't look like any letters he knew, but he could read them. Somehow, the letters were known to him. He began to repeat them to himself, noting as he went that gaps were missing from the text.

“In the Beginning, there was... Arceus. God... Original... Everlasting... Of One...”

Vermil sat down, somewhat frustrated, unsure what to make of the meaning, or of his situation. He sat, beginning to worry that he had strayed far from his search party, almost on the verge of screaming for help. It was as he mustered the strength to do so that he noticed another inscription, nestled into the leg of the statue. He could read this one too, but only because it was his native language. It seemed fairly recent too, he though, noting that it had been carved into the crystal in a manner that left a fine residue. He considered how weak the crystal must be to allow the carving.

“Don't you get it? It's all about the three. Even this room. The high path, which you must be careful and take your Time on. The low path, sheltered in Darkness. The middle, centre path, with it's tremendous Space. This is a holy site, a tribute, one would think. I think it might be...”

The words cut off. Whoever had inscribed them had seemingly had ample time, but had stopped for some reason. He began to contemplate them when he suddenly notice the room was different. Not extremely so, but just enough to notice. By the statue now sat two indentation that he could have sworn had not been there when he entered. By far most interesting, however, was the door had now appeared. It was made of the crystal of the caverns and sat in the middle of nowhere, not by a wall. It was clearly a door, featuring even a crystal handle, but did not appear to lead anywhere. He began walking around the strange door, noticing that behind it was nothing but a solid sheet of the same crystal. It didn't appear as if it should open. He examined the front of the door. Vermil noted that, upon running his hand over it, there were three words carved into it. These were not, however, of the same manner as the statue. These were designed to be here, invisible to the naked eye but deeply imbedded nonetheless. 

“You... Me... Us...” He said, running his hands over as if reading braile.

Vermil reached for the handle, but was unable to pull it. A great noise began to fill his ears, overwhelming his senses. He clutched his head and began to scream in pain, falling to his knees in front of the door. The door began to open by itself, opening onto a brilliant light that Vermil could not see through. It was impossible for his eyes to penetrate, made doubly so by the strain on his ears. The two senses became overwhelmed and he collapsed, almost fainting, the absoluteness of the noise only penetrated by one final sense, a feeling, a feeling of touch. Something was holding on to him, holding him fast, but he felt no fear. Whatever this third presence was, it was holding him in a caring embrace, Vermil thought as he began to lose consciousness altogether.

The End

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