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[Starter appreciation day, huh? Lancer doesn't need a day to appreciate his precious hellhound baby. Broadcasting to you from gods-only-know-where is a Lancer with a shiny Swablu perched upon his head and a stupid smile on his face. The Houndoom circled her sitting Trainer with an eagerly wagging tail, occasionally stopping to sniff at whatever he was doing.]
Alright, Olldóiteán, you ready?
[Grinning like an idiot, Lancer held up a stick upon which was skewered an impressive collection of meat; apparently this was how he did camping. The hellhound at his side practically hopped with excitement, whiptail going fast enough to take someone's head off. Lancer held the stick out a reasonable distance, and...]
Flamethrower.
[ FWOOSH ]
[Holy shit that's a lot of fire.]
Alright, Olldóiteán, you ready?
[Grinning like an idiot, Lancer held up a stick upon which was skewered an impressive collection of meat; apparently this was how he did camping. The hellhound at his side practically hopped with excitement, whiptail going fast enough to take someone's head off. Lancer held the stick out a reasonable distance, and...]
Flamethrower.
[ FWOOSH ]
[Holy shit that's a lot of fire.]
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That is a lot of--[ Wait, where is he? ] Where did you get that meat?
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[No food could survive that much fire, right?]
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[The screen comes on and shows him sitting on a rock by the side of Route 32 right outside of Violet. A Mareep is laying peacefully by him, even though the thing just got the crap beat out of it and zapped into a laser-spitting ball a few minutes ago. They all seemed to take that pretty well.]
What kind of name is Old Oil Tin?
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