A tumbleweed bounces across the desert, twirling in the wind before bumping up against the cactus. The tumbleweed then sprouted eyes, as did the cactus; they were in all reality a Bramblin and a Cacturne. They stared at each other- before the former lunged at the dark type, the two beginning a brief spar as a hushed whisper tweeted out across the dunes.

For miles on end, this was about the most you could expect from such an empty wasteland; sand and death as far as the eye can see.

The only exception to such a rule of thumb came in the form of a small campsite; a trio of bandits, still reeling from their recent haul from the nearest town. The three, known as the Monkies of Greed in many circles, especially the illiterate, were made up of a Simisage, Simisear, and Simipour.

The latter of which was happily brazing through their newfound treasure, running her hand along the golden top of the recently looted menagerie. "Oooohohoho! We did it now, boys- lookie lookie at all this lootie lootie!"

"Damn right we did," Simisear celebrated just as loudly, practically spinning around his sister as he plucked up one of the coins, "we're rich, I tells ya! Rich!"

"Would you two darn-tootin fools keep it down, you ain't know who's listening." Those deriding words made the two groan like children, turning to face Simisage as he eyed the desert in paranoia.

Then came the natural disagreement. "Oh please- bro, calm yourself!" Simisear expanded his arms, stepping about to point out- "We're in the middle of nowhere! Ain't nobody hearing jack."

"That's where you're wrong…Partner."

Standing at attention, their emotions whether it be paranoia or relaxed, blended instead into fear, as they realized what was happening. "No…That voice."

Stepping through the frenzying sandstorm, visage cloaked by the weather, was a short cactus girl, cowboy hat and blazer donned over her and a belt with a revolver at her hip. She spit out a string of straw, and looked up to meet their eyes.

"Or, should I say, partners? Since I do believe you three are in a heap of trouble."

"Sheriff Maractus…" Simisage growled out through his loose teeth, his blackeye narrowing with hate as he and his siblings stepped up to deal with the intruder.

"In the flesh!" She called out to the three no-good outlaws, before going and asking, "Now, how 'bout we skip the roughing and just get on our way to bringing you lowlifes to jail now?"

Simisear had other ideas. "How about I mess up your face!"

A glint of spectacle flashed in Maractus' eyes. "Alright, we going rough- have it your way."

Negotiations were over and everyone knew it. With a roar, the three lunged toward her with reckless abandon, while Maractus reached for the big iron on her hip. She took aim-

And then her eyes opened to the sound of the royal horn.

The instant Maractus' fantasy ended, she began to glare at the ceiling, screaming in anger right into the weight of her pillow, muffling her voice just enough to avoid allowing the help to hear it.

Rolling off her pillow, she began to stare at the wall; one decorated with portraits from one end to the other. Each a valiant, decorated member of her family line. Each with legacies spanning decades. Those she was compared to, for better or worse. Those she was expected to live up to even more than that.

And yet below all of that, hastily taped to the wall- her childhood drawings. Ones of her as a cowboy, scribbled across a sea of sand. She felt a smile begin to return-

"Young Maractus," that voice called out, Maractus' expression souring as she heard him say, "your duties are to be attended to. The morning is aging as we speak."

Groaning out as if the weight of the world crashed down onto her, she threw herself from her bed, stomping over to her well-kept walk-in closet full of more dresses than would could even find in the highest end fashion shops. And as she stared at them, she could only think-

"Why am I cursed to be born in the wrong time?"

"The Grand Festival's preliminaries came to an end last night, and may I say, I am absolutely thrilled with how things turned out," a Braviary said on the television, turning to his co-anchor on the news channel and asking, "how about you, Mandi"

"You're telling me, Brav; and wouldn't you know it, quite the high class made quite the appearance at the event as well, most notably of all, the champion of Sinnoh, Garchomp," Mandibuzz carried on, a picture flashing onscreen of the woman.

"That's right, Mandi, though as of late, our beloved champion has been faced with quite the criticism," Braviary carried on, fanning the flames of controversy.

"Yes, ever since the announcement of her planned retirement, the region has been quick to make their opinions clear!"

"She's abandoning us, how could she do that?!" Claimed a sobbing Chansey softly rocking an egg in her hand.

"Damn newest generation, thinking they can just quit any job they don't like- you signed up for it, deal with the consequences," came the words of a Diggersby in a construction hat.

"Do you think she'd sign my poster of her?" Asked a Snorlax wearing a t-shirt with the champion's face on it, holding up a poster of her in one hand and a body pillow in the other.

After a moment of recovering from…That sight, the two reaffirmed their own stance. "Sure looks like Garchomp has quite a bit of recovering she's gotta do, am I right?" Braviary teased.

"Looks like it, Brav!"

The two laughed- and the television switched off. Sitting on her couch was Bellossom, one of the Sinnoh gym leaders, who whispered into her phone, "And the gossip train begins…"

"Bell, it's really not a big deal to me; I was expecting this sort of thing."

Bellossom wasn't convinced though. "I mean…It could be a problem, though. If we're really planning to publicly have you step down, it'll mean all of this anger could fall onto your successor as well."

"Considering what I'm planning, the entire region will have the chance to understand their champion in and out. Whoever wins will have earned it, and the region will see that."

Bellossom wanted to argue further- but she knew better. Any concerns she'd point out, Garchomp would disprove, as she always had in the past.

"Now then, have you sent out your letter. We both know it may take a bit more convincing on her parent's part to let her compete."

Bellossom nodded to herself, explaining over the phone, "Yes, everything's already in order. Hoping to hear back from the royal lineage of Hammerlocke sooner rather than later…If they agree at all."

"Tell me; knowing the potential they'd decline, why this girl in particular? Does she really strike you as ready for this sort of power."

"I…I don't know…" Bellossom couldn't help but admit- truth be told she had never met the girl.

While, yes, Bellossom had regularly attended many events in Galar on account of having family there, she had never been close to the handful of blue bloods that lived there. But at the occasional event, she'd catch wind of that girl, and…And-

And that look in her eyes. That want for more. It spoke to her more than anyone else in that room. In a room so openly satisfied with their position above the common class who'd gladly lay about in laziness the rest of their lives, there was this girl, uncomfortable among her peers, eagerly anticipating an adventure of her own. Now, of course, she could also see the girl's immaturity, as was expected of her age, and no doubt the spoils of life had only made it worse. But that potential…

She couldn't let it go.

Soon, Bellossom found her answer, "...I think she deserves the opportunity to earn her status, if nothing else."

"Wise words."

As that letter was slipped onto the table of dining room set within the castle walls of Hammerlocke manor, a man would expectedly read it…And that news was about the only thing he'd refuse.

Dinner that night was not about the food; it was about war. A war between a girl and her parents. About her supposed right to find her own way in life and how they'd never allow it. And when all was said and done, and the victor had emerged, the girl was sent up to her room, tears in her eyes as she slammed the door behind her.

But they weren't tears born from sadness- instead from spite. Her pure vitriolic rage at the idea- the concept, that'd be denied her dreams by people who could never understand. She punched her walls, she screamed at the top of her lungs. As petty as it was, it gave her that power she oh so craved in that moment but had been denied. And once she was so tired she could feel death creeping in, she collapsed onto her bed. She was about ready to cry the night away-

Then she saw those pictures again…The scribbled drawings of the life she wanted more than anything. That picture of her, standing atop a trio of bad guys in the middle of that hot desert…

Simisage collapsed into the sand, groaning as Maractus stepped atop his rugged body. He and his siblings had fallen, and her- not a scratch in sight. She flicked the revolver in her hand, pressing it up against the brim of her hat and tipping it upward.

"Sorry boys- but justice don't wait for nobody."

…

"Don't wait for nobody…"

Finishing her note, she placed it on her desk. She stared at it a moment, eyes glazing the page in silence.

To whomever reads this,
I speak in humbled degree. This life is not for me. The spoiled ravages of time have only turned you into what I detest most. Verily, I shall make my leave. Do not expect my immediate return, nor that I shall, or ever could, accept your expected apologies.
Sincerely, your humblest daughter,
Maractus.

Placing the pen atop it to pin it in place, she hummed out and looked herself in the mirror. She had ripped her dresses and scarves apart, tearing and stitching them back into place and arranging a look all her own. One of a poncho, a handkerchief, and a top brimmed cowboy hat, assembled from only the most expensive and gorgeous of materials. They didn't quite have the look she was going for, but they'd do well for the moment.

She turned to her window and swung it open. From just beyond the castle walls, she could see the world on the horizon…It…It sang to her.

The door creaked open not longer after, a butler in the form of Thievul entering with the words, "Maractus, your father would like to speak with you further-"

But she was not there. He looked over the room…Then saw the open window…

Player #2: Maractus
Created by: ShinyRedExp
Represented Type: Grass

Age: 21
Gender: Female
Hometown: Hammerlocke, Galar
Received Recommendation from: Bellossom (Gym Leader - Eterna City)

"Look out there, partner; there's a new sheriff in town, so don't get caught slacking now, you hear? In this new, modern world, the "cowboy" can easily feel like a relic of its time. Sure, it may be this classic Unovan hero in the eyes of many, but few would actually take one seriously if they were to trot down the road on the back of a (very reluctant) Mudsdale today, all saddled up for a duel at high noon that'll never happen. It's a tad bit goofy, and more than a little outdated."

"But Maractus never got that message; to her, there's few things cooler than a gunslinger. Reserved and a tad bit headstrong, she styles herself well after their old traditions, taking notes on how to best optimally play the part. Seriously, she's probably seen every spaghetti western there ever was. Now, of course, how accurate those are to reality is debatable at best, but still; the idea is there. And she's devoted to being the best, gosh darn cowboy she possibly could be."

"Only problem…She ain't got the head for it. Girl's as spoiled as they come, coming from blue bloods with more capital than entire cities. And dear God does she hate it! Her life is so dull it's practically eating her up inside, so why not engage with a little bit of power fantasy about being this cool desperado on the run. Is it maybe a tad insensitive under this lens? Yep. Does she realize that to any degree? Nope. And besides, it's all in good fun, right? At the very least this identity of hers may just get her everything she needs to hide out from her family a good while."

"So, you best pony up if you know what's good for you, cause this wild lady is about to make the eastern region a lot more western. But will she prove to have the gumption to stay on the righteous path, or will the banditos manage to pull her down with 'em?"

Second prologue down and dirty, in this case maybe literally since man, who knows how well she's gonna take to the real world, amirite? Maractus is a real weirdo of a gal and that makes me pretty freaking excited to see what kind of hijinks she'll face. Probably gonna realize this cowboy life ain't as easy as it is in the movies, but eh, maybe she'll luck out?

Don't got much to say this time around, but man y'all are freaking piling in with these applications, calm the fuck down! Actually- don't. Overwhelm me. Do it, fuckers! For real though I really appreciate this kinda support, makes pursuing this project feel like it'll actually work out, get me?

Have a great morning, y'hear? Alright cool. Later.

Chosen Characters
Maractus (ShinyRedExp) - Grass Type
Tandemaus (Dark Arcanine 33) - Normal Type

Considered Characters
Eiscue (Zealous Thaumaturge) - Ice
Florges (Slimeboisss) - Fairy
Hakamo-o (kitkatwithabat) - Dragon / Fighting
Indeedee (Litini) - Psychic / Normal
Kommo-o (zetsunaflames) - Dragon / Fighting
Lycanroc (Spyrorocks389) - Rock
Malamar (Jeyko) - Dark / Psychic
Polteageist (Soul of the Witch) - Ghost
Tropius (Plumfadoodle) - Flying
Turtonator (kitkatwithabat) - Fire / Dragon
Wormadam (WryterWarrior) - Bug
Zorua (Miss Leafea) - Dark