[Not only had the carnival turned out to be just as lame as he'd anticipated, but it was also... weird. And not in a way that made it any more interesting; it was more the sort of thing that made it abundantly clear he should probably get the fuck out of there as soon as possible. He couldn't quite put his finger on what, exactly, was wrong-- though the weird smoke people running the games were a pretty big hint-- but there was just an atmosphere, an undeniable sensation of things just being wrong. While Guzma doesn't exactly pride himself on being the sensible type, sometimes it really is best to beat a retreat.
Except... he can't. He can't find the path he followed to find the carnival in the first place, nor can he find anything else familiar in the woods outside, either. In fact, the further he wanders, the weirder things seem to be getting; the trees are starting to change, to take odd new shapes and harbor weird, sometimes scary-looking fruits, and then there's one that's on fire, and Guzma decides there's no shame in running from fire, right?
Except that it's dark, and he's not really looking where he's going, and there are thick roots crisscrossing the forest floor in front of him-- some of which slam into his face when he inevitably trips and falls, bloodying his nose.]
Shit!
Wildcard
[He wandered around the carnival for a while before this, not really doing much; he doesn't have the money to play games or anything, nor really the interest, and the house of mirrors sounds like a Bad Time. Feel free to assume you ran into him wherever!]
Guzma | Pokemon Moon | New Recruit
[Not only had the carnival turned out to be just as lame as he'd anticipated, but it was also... weird. And not in a way that made it any more interesting; it was more the sort of thing that made it abundantly clear he should probably get the fuck out of there as soon as possible. He couldn't quite put his finger on what, exactly, was wrong-- though the weird smoke people running the games were a pretty big hint-- but there was just an atmosphere, an undeniable sensation of things just being wrong. While Guzma doesn't exactly pride himself on being the sensible type, sometimes it really is best to beat a retreat.
Except... he can't. He can't find the path he followed to find the carnival in the first place, nor can he find anything else familiar in the woods outside, either. In fact, the further he wanders, the weirder things seem to be getting; the trees are starting to change, to take odd new shapes and harbor weird, sometimes scary-looking fruits, and then there's one that's on fire, and Guzma decides there's no shame in running from fire, right?
Except that it's dark, and he's not really looking where he's going, and there are thick roots crisscrossing the forest floor in front of him-- some of which slam into his face when he inevitably trips and falls, bloodying his nose.]
Shit!
Wildcard
[He wandered around the carnival for a while before this, not really doing much; he doesn't have the money to play games or anything, nor really the interest, and the house of mirrors sounds like a Bad Time. Feel free to assume you ran into him wherever!]