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Thread: Pokedex One-Shots (PG)

  1. #326
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    And... I'm back.

    Its been awhile and although I failed my quest, (total NaNo word count: 7,076) I still think i did pretty good for a first attempt. I will be back in NaNo next November for sure.

    Anyway, I loved the Lapras entry. I seemed to fit the thanksgiving spirit and had a good moral.

    I did notice a typo though:

    And while he had liked swimming before, he didn’t like to looks of the sea now.
    It was up at the beginning.

    I will try to catch up on the stories I missed over the next few days or so, but I though I should read the current entry before I post.

    As for the computer issues and the lost story. I've been there. It sucks.
    ''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
    Watch your step! Sig Under Construction!

  2. #327
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    Great stories, great idea! Keep up the good work!
    this hope is treacherous, this daydream is dangerous.
    ~I've claimed Turtwig~

  3. #328
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    And I finally got Basil's story! Yes, I know Feraligator is technically supposed to be Feraligatr. I blame it on the name limit, so I'll use what looks nicer.

    As for Lugia's entries... not violent, even though it can wreak a lot of havoc. And a 40 day storm.

    Guest entry: darkdragontamer with Banette
    In Process: Flaafy/Togepi
    On Deck: Sudowoodo, Farfetch'd, Cherubi, Salamence family
    Reserve: Froslass (12/21), Articuno (12/24), Blissey (12/31)


    CHIKORITA
    Emerald entry: It waves its leaf around to keep foes at bay. However, a sweet fragrance also wafts from the leaf, creating a friendly atmosphere that becalms the battlers.

    FERALIGATOR
    Fire Red entry: It is hard for it to support its own weight out of water, so it gets down on all fours. But it moves fast.


    It was a toy wrecker, about five inches long with a four inch crane. It had a reddish orange body and a tanish-yellow crane. Despite some scuff marks and chips in the plastic, it was Basil’s favorite toy.

    The Chikorita nosed it backwards, towards a powder blue sedan that was upside down. “<About right... there!>” He lifted his head up to make sure, then pressed a white button on the cab’s roof. The crane opened up, dropped down, grabbed the smaller car, then lifted it off the ground.

    Crowing happily, Basil pushed it hard, sending the wrecker zooming along the floor and into a door. He raced after it, nudged it in a new direction, then sent it into the next room. There, it ran right smack into Elm’s foot.

    The Pokemon Professor looked down at his young charge chasing after the toy. He chuckled and spared a moment to pat Basil on the head. “Rescuing some unfortunate folks, are we?”

    “<You bet!>” He nipped at the crane’s tip and pulled it back, then looked up at Elm.

    “According to the reports I’ve got, your two friends have all grown up. I keep thinking of sending you out with one of my helpers. Still, I think I’d miss you most if you left.”

    Basil flicked his leaf, sending some of its sweet aroma into the room. “<Well I’m happy to stay with you. Somebody’s got to keep you from working all the time, right?>”

    Elm then leaned over, turned the wrecker around, and shoved it back out the room. Scrambling frantically, Basil chased after it again, nearly crashing into one of Elm’s assistants. He ducked out of the way of falling papers and got to his wrecker. Once he had it, he pushed it off and chased it all over the Pokemon Lab.

    Until it made a run for the automatic doors and rolled outside. Basil paused for a moment to sniff the air. It was turning out to be a nice day, warm and sunny with a calm breeze to keep things comfortable. Pity that Elm was working indoors today, again. But there was something he could do about that. He nosed the wrecker back inside, released the powder blue sedan, then fetched a couple of items.

    A minute later, he was back in Elm’s office, holding onto a leash. His wrecker was now holding onto his Pokeball. He patted the professor’s leg. “<Come on, outside time.>”

    Elm didn’t notice right away, absorbed in reviewing new Pokedex entries. “If the theory is correct, then this can’t be its initial form. But that’s all anyone is finding it as. I wonder... hmm?” He looked down to a more insistent nosing. “You want to take a walk?”

    He put the leash down. “<You need it; it’s not healthy for you to be inside when it’s nice and sunny out.>”

    “I really should finish up this review so I can upload it to Oak.”

    “<Later. We go out now.>”

    Elm looked at the screen, then back at Basil. “I suppose it’s not due for a few days. Come on, let’s go.”

    “<That’s more like it,>” the Chikorita replied as Elm attached the collar to his neck. The professor then tied the other end through the cab of the wrecker. Basil would take his toy everywhere he went, and this was the easiest way to let him take it outside. Elm then took the Pokeball, informed his assistants, then left to go on a walk.

    The Route leading away from the lab was quiet. A few wild Pokemon were out, but weren’t interested in attacking the pair. The sky was bright blue and clear, stretching above for as far as they could see. The trees were decked out in their deep summer green. It was calm, as if nothing bad could happen here.

    Elm stretched his arms out, then looked down at Basil. “I’m certain that my productivity has gone down ever since you arrived. But it doesn’t really bother me. I haven’t been as stressed out lately.”

    “<It’s good to relax,>” Basil said, then nudged his wrecker around a patch of pebbles.

    Then a loud bellow interrupted the calm afternoon. Basil jerked his head up, but only saw a blue blur as he was snatched up and stolen away. When he looked back, Elm had grabbed his Pokeball to call him back. But then a kid with spiky red hair yanked it from the Professor’s hand. The thief then ran into the woods with them.

    “Basil!” Elm called out, but then the Route disappeared behind the trees.

    “<Elm!>” He tried to squirm away. “<Let me go!>”

    “<You’ll thank me for this later,>” he replied, and kept running through the trees.

    They came to a clearing and stopped. Basil was put down on the ground. Worried, he checked out his wrecker. After pushing it upright and pressing the crane’s button, he figured out that it was okay. He looked over at his captor, who had dropped down on all fours and was breathing heavily. Like that, he was at eye level with the Chikorita. “<What’re you tired for?>”

    “<I normally don’t run that far,>” he said after a moment. “<So the nerd calls you Basil? Hmph.>”

    “<What’re you called?>”

    “<My proper name, Feraligator.>” He winked. “<You remember me, Chikorita?>”

    He tilted his head. “<You? I don’t know. Maybe. I see a lot of Pokemon in the lab.>”

    He grinned, showing off dozens of sharp curved teeth. “<Maybe as the toothy little terror?>”

    “<You were Totodile? Gracious, you’ve gotten much bigger.>” He leaned forward and sniffed. Feraligator did smell like Totodile. “<And much toothier.>”

    “<And you’re still just a little sprout. But don’t worry. We’re here to change all that.>”

    The spiky haired boy finally came into the clearing. “There you guys are. That went easier than I thought.” He sat down by the two of them. “You’d think that after the first time, he’d learn to get some better security, but no.” He shook his head.

    “<And this is the guy who kidnapped you?>” Basil asked. “<Why’re you still hanging around him?>”

    “<He liberated me. And he’s the greatest Trainer in all of Johto. He’ll make you strong, unless you wimp out and cry.>”

    “So this was the third option, huh?” The thief took Basil’s chin and looked him over. “You don’t look that impressive, but you were the professor’s choice. That means you’ve got to be great, somehow. They never give out losers and weaklings as starter Pokemon.”

    “<May I go back to Elm?>”

    “<Why would you want to do that?>”

    “<Because he needs me. I make sure he takes a daily walk and doesn’t work too hard.>”

    The thief then took the leash and looked at the wrecker. “And what’s that thing attached to you?”

    “<It’s a wrecker! Or a tow truck, if you must use the less interesting term. It’s the best toy in the whole wide world.>”

    Feraligator snorted. “<Sheesh. I’ve gotten big and strong while you’ve stayed little and gotten spoiled.>”

    The Chikorita flicked his leaf indignantly. “<Just because I have a toy and you don’t doesn’t mean that I’m spoiled.>”

    “We’re gonna have to get rid of that,” the thief said.

    He gasped in alarm. “<But it’s my toy! I want to keep it. If I can’t, then I want to go back to Elm right now.>”

    “<But we’re going to make you one of the strongest Pokemon ever,>” Feraligator said, trying to convince him away. “<We’re going to build the best team in Johto and show everyone true greatness.>”

    Fortunately, the boy thief didn’t take the leash or wrecker away immediately. He took his stolen Pokedex and checked with it. “Okay, I think you stay as pure Grass type, which helps me out immensely. I’m done with just taking Pokemon as I find them. I’ve gotten rid of all but the one who meets my criteria of power,”

    Feraligator grinned. “<Me, of course.>”

    “And you must become great; otherwise, Elm wouldn’t have had you. So now I can work a team around you two and show them all up.” He scowled. “Especially that goody-two-shoes... bah. I swear, he acts all innocent and sweet, but he must be doing something to his Pokemon to make them better than they should be. If only I could figure out what that is.”

    “<It can’t be that ‘friendship and kindness’ stuff he was going on about. That won’t get you nothing.>”

    “<I think kindness can go a long way,>” Basil said, twitching his ears and leaf. “<That, and making sure to relax some every day. That’ll get you a peaceful and long life, at least, I think so.>”

    “<What? That’s ridiculous. You can’t hold onto peace, because too many bad things happen all the time. But I’ll tell you what you can hold onto and believe in, and that’s...>”

    He tilted his head as if curious, although he knew what was going on. “<And that’s what?>”

    Feraligator blinked. “<Oh, um... darn... I had this whole ‘get you pumped and ready to rumble’ speech ready, and... I forgot it.>”

    Basil flicked his leaf; he knew that it was his scent that was affecting Feraligator and he had to make sure he stayed affected. “<That’s too bad. Maybe you’re just tired out and need a nap. It’s a beautiful sunny day, perfect for a nap outdoors.>” He didn’t have any skills to put Feraligator to sleep, but maybe some cunning could do the same thing.

    “<Yeah, that sounds nice right about now.>”

    The thief looked up from his study. “What’s wrong, Feraligator? You look a bit spacey.”

    “<We were gonna take control of the League and make them do things the proper way, our way,>” the blue reptile rambled. “<But, uh, maybe we ought to take a day off and relax, you know?>”

    “<Relaxing is good,>” Basil agreed, flicking his leaf towards the human.

    “You need to stay alert in case... they come looking.” The thief blinked, then shook his head. He tried to sound stern again as he turned to Basil. “Is this your doing?”

    The Chikorita nodded. “<Yup, I help people relax.>”

    He took a deep breath of the sweetness, then coughed. “Okay, this isn’t going to work out. I need a fighting team. I don’t need somebody that’s going to keep everyone from battle.”

    “<Then I’m not for you, I guess. May I go back to Elm now?>”

    “We’ll have to,” he shook his head. “Nah, forget it. It’s not worth the trouble.” He tossed Basil’s ball aside. “Let’s go, Feraligator.”

    “<Can we take the rest of the day off?>” he asked as they went back into the woods.

    Basil pushed his wrecker over to the Pokeball and picked it up with the crane. Then, not wanting to steer it around all the trees, he picked the wrecker up in his mouth and carried it back to the Route.

    As he came out from behind a bush, he found a policeman searching the area. Pleasantly surprised, the officer patted his head, then stood up. “Professor, is this the one that was taken?”

    Elm came over and smiled when he saw the Chikorita. “Basil, thank goodness you’re all right.” He undid the collar, then picked him up. “So you got away on your own, huh? I knew you were the clever one.”

    Basil nuzzled his head against Elm’s neck. “<Like I said, somebody’s got to keep an eye on you.>”
    Pokedex OS- Still trying to capture every single Pokemon out there in words: 648/718 Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, and Sinnoh complete!

    Fluer Noir- A story of a black flower, a shameful history, and magic.

  4. #329
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    Basil the Chikorita, such a great name.

    Great chapter as always, sorry i didnt reply for the last one but i have been away quite alot recently.

    The Lapras one had a nice ending as well, well done.

  5. #330
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    Hi I've looked at all your storys and I must say they are great !!!
    Muhahahahahahahahahahahahah

    I am Planning a region but.....I can't draw


        Spoiler:- spoiler:

  6. #331
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    Ah, the cute Chikorita and his drug-like influences. XD And Silver! *fangirl squeal*

    True, Lugia stays out of the way to keep its power down ... but how would it know it can be destructive, unless it did wreak some havoc?

    Anywho ... I'm assuming I can post this now, if not, my apologies. A warning to readers: this little tale is not for the faint of heart.


    BANETTE
    Sapphire entry: A cursed energy permeated the stuffing of a discarded and forgotten plush doll, giving it new life as Banette. This Pokemon’s energy would escape if it were ever to open its mouth.


    There was a story, handed down from generation to generation, of some dark spirit which brooded in the valley, one whose vengeance could tear asunder the very mountains which separated it from the rest of the world. There were rumors of an evil influence from the nearby country which the valley bordered, a remnant of the last great war which, given time, might bring about the end of the world. The inhabitants of the valley’s humble village scoffed at such an idea, claiming that their ancestors had lived there for centuries, and nothing supernaturally horrible had happened to them. Of course, at this time of year, when the icy wind howled against frosted windowpanes and the dark, unused corners of the older homes creaked ominously, it was difficult to chuckle at the antics of the nervous believers of such a legend.

    But today, in one of the cottages in the valley, any traces of fear had to make way for celebration. Six small children shrieked happily as they chased each other in and out of rooms, darting back and forth. A sudden blast of freezing wind announced the arrival of their father, and yelling “Daddy!” happily, they flocked towards the opening door, where a dark-haired man was shaking off the snow settling on his heavy coat. He looked tired, but grinned at them all the same as he shut the door.

    “Now, where’s the birthday girl?” he asked, scanning the room.

    “Here, Daddy!” yelped a black-haired girl, rushing toward him from the back of the crowd. Her face was lit up with happiness; however, it looked pale and drawn, as if she hadn’t slept in days.

    “Emmi!” Laughing, he scooped her up in his arms and spun his giggling daughter around, feeling the warm air from the fireplace already seeping into his skin. Her white dress whirled in the wide, sweeping motion. Setting her down gently, he reached into a large pocket on his coat, withdrawing a sloppily wrapped parcel. “I have a present for you.”

    Emmi’s eyes shone as they took in the sight of the parcel. Still giggling, she took it from his grasp, tearing off the brownish paper excitedly. Her several siblings looked over her shoulder curiously, wondering what on earth her gift could be.

    The last of the paper fell away, and Emmi yelped in delight as she found herself holding a smiling doll, nearly half as big as she was. The doll, dressed in a simple cotton dress and topped with a mane of blond yarn for hair, had to be the perfect new playmate she’d been hoping for all year. Squealing happily, she hugged the doll tightly. “I love it, Daddy, thanks! So much! I’m gonna call her Sally!”

    Her father laughed. “You’re welcome. Is your mother still cooking?”

    “Yeah, she’s been in there for ages,” one of the little boys pouted, sticking out his lower lip. “I don’t think she’s ever gonna be done. I wanna eat cake, Daddy!”

    “I’m sure she’ll be done soon.” The man ruffled his messy hair. “Why don’t you all play some more for a while?”

    “Okay,” the boy sighed. A second later, the children were rushing through the house again, sliding under furniture and laughing. Emmi played with them, Sally clamped firmly under her arm.

    * * *

    The humble little party ended late that night, and the children indignantly set off to bed. Emmi entered her own room, chattering happily to Sally.

    “I’m seven years old now, Sally! Isn’t that wonderful?”

    <Very wonderful,> Sally agreed.

    Emmi heard her speak, but was unfazed. She was at that age when belief in the unseen unlocks doors separating the real from the imagined. “We’re gonna have so much fun, Sally! We’re gonna play tea party and Three Scary Psyduck! It’ll be so fun!”

    Sally just smiled. As a doll, she already knew the numerous games children enjoyed playing.

    Emmi’s room was a simple one, containing a bed, a small box stuffed with clothes, and three other toys scattered across the floor. They stared at Sally curiously from their various inert positions, and she looked away from them, embarrassed.

    “These are your new friends, Sally!” Emmi said excitedly, setting her down next to them before rushing out to wash before bed.

    Left alone with the curious toys, Sally glanced about the darkened room, unwilling to meet their intent gazes. With no human present, they could move freely, and they did so, stretching and sitting up from their uncomfortable positions.

    <New one, eh?> asked a stuffed, tattered Teddiursa, scratching his ear. <Been a while.>

    <Don’t mind him,> said another doll, this one a good deal older than Sally. Most of her hair was gone, exposing the grubby cloth scalp underneath. A jagged line zigzagged from the top of her head, down her face, and disappeared into the folds of her tattered dress, testifying of some accident bad enough to warrant the dreaded sewing needle. <He’s a tad crusty. I’m Sanda, by the way. The Teddiursa is Di, and the gal in the corner is Betty.>

    Curiosity overcoming her shyness, Sally looked over in the corner to the third toy, which was yet another doll, slumped in a position usually associated with the dead, and rightfully so. Unlike Sanda, she had obviously been in poor repair before she lost her will to live. All of her stuffing was missing, having spilled through the large, gaping holes in her body, and some sort of dark crimson jam had been spilled on her long ago, giving her the appearance of being soaked in blood. Sally shuddered for a moment, before belatedly realizing that she might have offended someone with such outward horror.

    Sanda chuckled. <Everyone gets the willies when they see Betty, sweetheart. It’s perfectly normal.>

    Di gave Sally a meaningful look before glancing sideways at Sanda, rolling his eyes. It seemed that Sanda was blissfully unaware that there was no consciousness in Betty’s wide, blank eyes; no cheerful meaning graced her dead, lopsided smile.

    <Heard the parents talkin’,> Di said, abruptly changing topics. Sally wondered if this was what the toys had been discussing before her sudden arrival. <They’re worryin’ ‘bout the country next door. Rumors ‘bout war with them ‘n’ so on.>

    <War?> Sally asked, her terrified answer coming out as a soft squeal. She’d heard fairy tales about war, but one could always count on the hero’s Pikachu destroying the enemy’s rampaging Gyarados. In a desolate valley like this, it was harder to believe in such a happy ending.

    <Maybe. We just gotta hope that they’re not that desperate for all this land.>

    <I’ve wondered about that,> Sanda said thoughtfully. <Pity we’re so close to the border. The family’d get swept apart by just a few of their soldiers.>

    <Dunno if we need to worry, though,> Di mumbled. <We got a bunch o’ Ponyta of our own. Ridin’ into battle can’t be that much harder ‘n tillin’ fields. ‘Specially in this weather.>

    <Shadows beckon,> hissed a voice.

    Startled, Di and Sanda stared in horror at the darkness under the bed. Apprehension rising, Sally followed their gazes.

    A Pokemon was materializing under the bed, a jet-black orb coated in an arcane, purplish gas. Dark eyes flashed in malevolence, and small fangs jutted from his mouth.

    <He’s back again,> Sanda whispered fearfully. <We thought he’d gone for good … and Emmi was just starting to recover from the nightmares, too…>

    Sally shivered. Gastly were uncommon monsters whom delighted in dwelling in the dark shadows between bed and floor, cloaking them in their gaseous bodies and weakening them with their notorious toxins, before devouring the sweet dreams of their young victims, replacing them with the howling torment of their own imaginations. Parents could look on in concern, pat their children on the head and say that everything was all right; but how could they know of the ghoul floating just a few inches underneath their child, cackling in delight as the young one slowly wasted away over the years?

    A sudden protectiveness of Emmi gripped her. She had known her human for barely a few hours, and yet she had seen the purity of her heart, the sweetness of her mind. Could she let the child suffer from such a fate? Could she bear to watch the light in Emmi’s eyes flicker and die? No, she could not. There was not much within a doll’s power to counter a fiend such as this, but she could at least try.

    <Leave,> she whispered, locking gazes with the ghost.

    <Dreams are mine tonight,> the Gastly hissed, floating out into the small, dark room. <They will float on my tongue, and I will slowly lick innocence away from her. I will be fed, she will be dead, you will linger in despair.>

    Horror gripped Sally’s heart like an icy claw. The Gastly was advancing toward her, his gas shrouding him like a robe of darkness. <Leave,> she repeated, this time her voice barely stronger than a squeak.

    <She will find horror,> he continued, a horrific smile stretching his face. <I will find power. I will become drunk on her screams.>

    He was almost upon her now, and, being paralyzed with fear, she could not will herself to widen the gap again. Sanda and Di, frightened beyond normal capacity, had slumped inert to the ground, finding themselves unable to stand against his dark power. Fear radiated from the ghost like the icy wind outside, but this was no mere external discomfort; this was a sensation that pierced the skin, froze the heart and turned blood to ice.

    A wisp of the ever-shifting gas swept over her face for a moment, and the scent of decaying meat it carried made her shiver even harder.

    Hardly thinking about it, her mind clouded in fear as it was, she felt herself getting to her stubby feet, standing erect before the ghoul. <Leave,> she growled yet again, and she was vaguely surprised that her ability to speak had not abandoned her.

    The Gastly merely cackled again. His shroud was shifting, reforming itself into a pair of clawed hands, which reached for her with agonizing slowness. Realizing it was hopeless, she closed her eyes in despair, willing for quick release.

    Make it fast, she pleaded inwardly.

    NO!

    A sudden rush of defiance entered her heart, thawing it so fast that she was forced to gasp. She could not let him win. It was unthinkable.

    Her eyes were still squeezed shut, so she could only feel her mouth opening, sucking in what must have been a final breath; could only hear the sound of her voice roaring <BEGONE!> as a strange energy began to tingle around her clenched fist, which swung around in a wide arc, slicing through the freezing darkness that was Gastly’s body. An anguished howl ripped the air apart, and she forced herself to open her eyes in time to see him collapse through the wooden wall, fading out in the night.

    The oppressive sense of doom it had brought immediately dispelled.

    Breathing heavily, she sank to her knees in exhaustion. It took her a moment to put herself together and clear her mind of Gastly’s influence. When she was herself again, she could barely move for shock. Had she actually done that? Dispelled a Gastly from a dwelling where, once it decided to stay, it would stay? But toys could not do that. They could comfort, but not banish.

    A soft sound behind her caught her attention. Turning around, she saw Sanda and Di half sitting, half lying down. Both were staring at her in shock.

    <What happened?> Sally asked them, examining her hand. <I don’t think that—>

    <Stay away from me!> Sanda shrieked, eyes as wide as saucers. She backed up until she had her shoulders to the wall.

    Sally’s eyes glinted in shock and hurt. <What?>

    <Darkness,> Di muttered, scooting a little ways away. <For a sec you looked … diff’rent. Like you were some sorta fiend or somethin’.>

    The young doll opened her mouth to tell them that she didn’t understand, that she had, after all, cast out the Gastly; and surely that ought to provide enough excitement to boggle their minds and skew whatever they believed they were seeing.

    “Hiya, Sally!” Emmi said cheerfully, bursting through the door.

    Then the world erupted into flames.

    * * *

    The enemy soldiers were swift, their Rapidash steeds agile. They swept through the homes in the valley with deadly force, annihilating the sturdy wooden homes as if they were made of toothpicks. A burning smell stung the noses of everyone within a quarter mile of the nearest fire, as the Rapidash spat thin, writhing streams of flame out at random flammable objects. The screams of residents shattered the bitingly cold night air, rudely replacing the calm silence of just a few minutes earlier.

    A few foot soldiers kicked down the door of Emmi’s house, drawing swords as flickering tongues fire began to lick the doorframe. A savage war cry drew their attention, and in turning they caught sight of Emmi’s father, still dressed in his dark-colored nightclothes and waving a makeshift wooden club.

    A swish of a blade, and he collapsed to the floor, mouth still gaping in a silent roar.

    Someone screeched further inside the house. Emmi’s mother, blond hair tangled in disarray, was rushing from room to room, grabbing as many children as she could carry. The soldiers glanced at each other, nodded, and wordlessly advanced toward her. Noticing them coming, she blanched and spun around in an attempt to flee, but they laid hands on her easily, grabbing her roughly before she could make her escape. Whimpering, the children cowered, and were taken more quickly. As a few of them proceeded to rope them up with thick, black twine, the rest proceeded to kick down the other doors, searching for more.

    The flames danced higher, their bright, malevolent orange drowning out the pale yellow of candles flickering on the mantle over the empty fireplace.

    A soldier burst through Emmi’s door, grabbing her thin arm before the situation could sink in. Wide-eyed in fear and immediately forgetting her toys in the face of danger, the girl screamed shrilly and desperately tried to pull herself free. Scowling, the soldier slapped her across the face with shocking force, leaving her too shocked to protest.

    <Emmi!> Sally cried, watching the soldier drag her beloved human away. If only she could do whatever she had done to the Gastly, and save the girl from whatever awful fate lay in store for her! But no toy could act on its own in the presence of humans. No matter what she could do otherwise, she was as helpless as a rag now.

    Emmi’s mouth weakly formed the words “Help me,” to no one in particular, tears glinting in the corners of her eyes, before they disappeared through the doorway. The door slammed violently, knocking a few dark ashes from the burning ceiling.

    <They can’t take her!> Sanda cried indignantly, shoving herself to her feet as soon as she was able to. Harsh voices reached the toys’ ears, followed by heavy footsteps which grew fainter before vanishing altogether.

    Sally looked around frantically. The flames were spreading with deadly speed, sweeping down the walls like a wave of water. Shaking in fear, she rushed to the door and beat against it with all her might. But the weak stuffing of a doll is useless against the hard, solid wood of a door, even one weakened by the heat of fire. Desperate, she spun around and ran toward the bedpost, climbing anxiously before reaching the window. Bracing herself, she leapt at the window, only to collide with the cold, hard glass. Gasping in sudden pain, she hit the floor, winded.

    The flames leapt higher, licking the floor as they towered over the toys. Frightened, Sanda and Di rushed to the bedpost, climbing frantically onto the bed just before the fire reached the spots where they had stood a second before.

    Still dazed, Sally rubbed her head, screwing her eyes shut against the pain. A sudden shriek, and they flung open again; she was dismayed to see Sanda rushing back and forth across the bed, her dress on fire, clothing her in bright and dazzling colors. A stray tongue of flame extended towards the blanket beneath, and before long the entire bed and Di were also aflame.

    In the corner, Betty’s dead smile shriveled into a twisted grimace as the inferno consumed her rapidly burning corpse.

    Sally watched in utter horror as the bright flames roared, almost spanning from floor to ceiling. Her head still spinning, she could barely summon the energy to open her mouth before the thunderous blaze sank its teeth into her body.

    Her scream ripped through the night, and she writhed and howled as piercing flames ripped gashes in her fair cloth skin. Small pits of angrier fire burst through the gashes, feeding on her stuffing within. A rouge flame ripped across her lips, bursting open her frail throat. Fire poured from her mouth, and her head jerked back and forth in a soundless shriek of unimaginable agony as her tongue withered from the immense heat.

    And then, in a final burst of unspeakable pain, she died.

    * * *

    Something was wrong. She could accept that she was dead, although the loss of Emmi would tear her apart for the rest of eternity; but death was something one experienced with a strange feeling of isolation, the knowledge that no matter how much one was loved, no matter how many friends one acquired in one’s lifetime, one would inevitably die alone. Nothing could be brought along besides memory.

    But she was not alone.

    Child, whispered a voice in her mind.

    Her mind still in a daze, Sally whimpered in confusion. The fact that she could still make a noise was somewhat surprising, but she could surely put that matter aside for now. A faint tingling manifested itself a slight distance away, and reflexively her fingers twitched. She still had fingers? Strange.

    You must get up.

    Her body – she could feel it, but how? – struggled to its feet, seemingly of its own accord. Memories of the pain suddenly rushed back, and she cringed.

    They are going. We must hurry.

    Sally tried to respond, but found to her surprise that her mouth was somehow sealed shut. What was going on? Unsure of these developments, she hesitantly opened her eyes.

    The darkness seemed to shine like the sun on a bright summer day. It illuminated the hidden corners of the valley, lit the sky with incredible brilliance…

    Shaking her head to recover from this wonder, she noticed with a start that surrounding her were heaps of gray, fluttering ashes, scattered by a slight winter breeze. Besides that, all was still. No fire burned. No shouts punctured the cautious quiet. No Pokemon of the night slunk along the bright snow. It was as if all the world simply lay in wait, unsure of whether to pounce or flee.

    She happened to glance down at herself, and would have gasped in shock if it were possible. Her body was charred black, a horrific testimony of the heat of flames. Her dress was gone, but that made sense – it explained the small pile of ashes at her feet. Feeling her head gingerly, she stiffened as her long black hand felt something long, crooked, and pointed, like a wizard’s hat, where her hair should have been.

    Have you no sense? We must hurry.

    Worry started to resettle in her gut. What is this? she wondered, touching her sealed mouth. A cold zipper kept her lips tight together, somewhat similar to the zipper which had been on her dress, although this one was obviously bigger.

    Something you are lucky enough to not understand.

    She froze. She wasn’t sure how, but somehow, something had heard her thoughts. Shivering slightly, she took a few shaky steps forward and abruptly slipped on something smooth, dark and round. The object rolled a few feet away colliding with its twin with a loud clack. Wincing from the unexpected impact, Sally unsteadily got to her feet. Her eyes narrowed in curiosity for a moment before widening in horror: those marbles had been Di’s eyes. A feeling of bile rising in her throat, she backed away as fast as she dared to.

    No! Not that way!

    She came to an abrupt halt. Who are you? she asked quietly, wondering if whatever fate lay in store for her would hurt more if she were unable to scream.

    Surely as a doll you knew of such tales? There is a story, one of great horror and fear that would make your very skin shrivel in terror. It is said by many that on the last day I shall rise in the form of the great Armageddon and tear souls from their bodies with such agonizing slowness that both portions will scream in the great pain for hours on end…

    Shudders began to wrack Sally’s frame. The presence.

    Of course, they also say I hide under beds and in closets and devour naughty children, and we all know that’s a load of drivel, the presence went on. I do wish the Armageddon thing were true, though. It’s a lot better than what I really have to do.

    Slowly the shudders grew far less violent. The presence’s claim might not be true, but it was at least perversely comforting. Unsure of what to do next, she kept silent.

    You don’t believe me? Sad, sad, sad. If a doll can’t believe, who can?

    She shut her eyes in concentration. What do you want?

    The same thing you want.

    And that is?

    The extermination of evil.


    That was not the answer she expected. But you are evil!

    Am I? The mere fact that I prefer darkness does not make me evil. The Hoothoot searches for prey in the dark to keep himself alive, is he then evil? The Absol travels by night to avoid persecution, is his soul then corrupt?


    Sally half-opened her eyes, taking in the blinding brightness that was the night sky. I still don’t understand.

    I could argue about it all night, but due to circumstances I cannot elaborate. Suffice it to say that we share a common goal, just as we share this body.


    She shivered again. The idea of another intelligence inhabiting herself was extremely unnerving.

    The soldiers have taken the children to their land. They are preparing for a full-scale war against this country, and wish to appease their pagan god, their Unseen King, for the sake of power.

    Her mind worked furiously as it put two and two together. You mean … they plan to sacrifice them?

    And worse.


    The thought was horrifying. And yet…

    You doubt yourself?

    Of course. After all, what could she, a mere doll, do against the forces of an evil army and some Unseen King?

    You are no longer a “mere doll”. I have possessed you, and I will help you overcome them, as we overcame the Gastly.

    You mean … you saved us from him?

    Naturally. I suppose that the “begone” bit was a tad unnecessary, but it added to the “epic hero” feel, don’t you think?

    I suppose…

    Let’s not dawdle any longer. We must crush them before they gain the arcane power which they seek.

    What? We can’t
    kill them! Fighting is wrong!

    War itself is not evil. It is the way of deciding who is superior. Even sudden, unfair ambushes on defenseless villages, such as this, are not wicked things; for out of such struggles do heroes arise. But this … the taking of children! A wave of intense anger rippled through her mind, and she winced at the violence in the emotion. Nothing can excuse it. They must suffer for the crime.


    She felt horrified at the idea of killing something, no matter how wicked it was. Life was so precious, and the taking of it was so much more than just a crime: it was cruel evidence that some could not appreciate that all hearts beat alike, that they all ran side by side in the race against time and misfortune. But a part of whatever she had become stirred. What were the soldiers doing, then? Their vile nature could not excuse their own injustices. And Emmi? If she left Emmi to their mercy, she was no better than the soldiers. Her eyes narrowed as she came to the only available conclusion.

    I will do what I must.

    Without warning, she lifted off the ground, floating serenely in the bitterly cold air. She glanced down at the space between her feet and the earth below, and felt somewhat giddy.

    This is how it must be, said the presence. But our crusade will warrant a sacrifice.

    I will do what I must, Sally repeated, although slightly apprehensive.

    Very well.

    With a sudden jerk they soared outward, wind biting at their charred-black skin as the edge of the valley slowly but surely rushed toward them.

    * * *

    The enemy encampment was relatively easy to find in the light of the night sky. There were no tents or similar structures on the flat, desolate wasteland; the many soldiers simply stood, their Rapidash snorting in excitement. Their ranks encircled the hapless captives: mainly children, but a few mothers were also present, clutching their children’s’ shoulders in a useless attempt at comfort. Directly behind the hostages sprawled an evil-looking altar, upon which sat a pile of burning, dead wood.

    Floating high above the oppressive scene, Sally watched in dismay, searching for Emmi among the captives. There she was! The girl slept in her mother’s shaking arms, evidently exhausted. Her siblings whimpered in fear and confusion, huddling around their wide-eyed parent.

    So the girl was safe, at least for now … but her heart sank as the soldiers made way to form a path for their captain, an unshaven man whose countenance loomed darker than the jet-black folds of his cloak. A heavily scarred Gliscor followed him, sneering down at the shorter humans. The man halted directly in front of his prisoners, and his soldiers quickly reformed ranks, preventing any escape.

    The man spoke in a deep, guttural language that the terrified villagers would naturally not understand; but as a doll Sally could, although she immediately wished she was unable to, from the moment he opened his mouth.

    “You are useless,” he said, in a voice that somehow made the surrounding chill seem more than physical. “Useless as slaves, useless as townspeople, useless as feed for our noble steeds. There does exist a single use for you, which you could never appreciate…”

    The Gliscor, with snakelike speed, seized a random child with its claws, a feral grin stretching its haunting face as the young human’s alarmed squeals rang through the air. Sally’s stomach turned over as she watched it drag him to the altar. Was it her imagination, or her strange new sight, that made it seem that the flames were a dark, unholy azure?

    It is beginning, the presence snarled. Sally could feel it longing to throw caution to the winds, to tear into those soldiers for their atrocious misdeeds.

    “It is you who shall feed our Unseen King,” the dark captain continued. “You who shall appease him in return for strength, the strength to crush your own foolish king and add to our empire that land which is rightfully ours. You should be honored that we give you the opportunity to participate in this momentous event.”

    The Gliscor, with agonizing slowness, lifted the child into the air by his arms, giving him a good look at those ravenous flames. Yet it paused, not yet throwing the child to his doom. The soldiers did not seem to find anything amiss, but instead bowed toward the altar, keeping their eyes on the ground.

    Why isn’t it killing him already? Sally asked nervously, peering at the scene. Could it be that it doesn’t want to? A feeling of hope started blossoming in her chest.

    The presence growled suddenly. It is killing him, do not be deceived! Watch!

    Taking a closer look, she realized that the Gliscor’s huge, jagged claws were slowly but surely crushing the child’s frail arms. Ignoring his shrill screaming, the brute continued to squeeze painfully. Some ancient whisperings broke loose among the mad crackling, and Sally, in increasing apprehension, knew that it was not her imagination.

    It is time, the presence declared suddenly.

    Unwilling to be distracted, Sally peered closer at the goings-on, watching the child go slack in the Gliscor’s grasp as he fainted from shock. Time? For what?

    For our own sacrifice.

    What?

    We can only stop them if we pay a certain price. True, they can be obliterated, but I must give up this body, and so must you.


    Sally tensed. She was still so new to the world, so many paths left unexplored … and yet, watching Emmi lie unconscious in her mother’s arms, she knew that the children must come first. That, after all, was the purpose of dolls.

    There is one thing, and one thing alone, that we can do against their Unseen King. I will tell you what that is when the time comes.

    Instinctively she grew apprehensive, in spite of her resolution to protect the children. I can’t move when they’re around, she said, stalling.

    A doll cannot, but you are no longer a doll. You must do this! They need us!

    With a sudden jerk, she pushed herself toward the grisly scene, eyes streaming in the biting wind. As she rushed toward them, the soldiers screamed in surprise and scattered, ignoring their duty and the prisoners. Swearing loudly, the captain roared at his Gliscor to hurry up, before turning back to Sally and watching her approach with a cold, almost curious gaze. The children whimpered in fear as her shape grew larger against the darker night sky.

    She veered slightly to the left, knocking the Gliscor to its knees and freeing the boy from its grasp. His limp body collapsed onto the ground. Surprise overcome by rage, the Gliscor opened its mouth in a feral snarl, baring its claws menacingly as it watched her swoop around in a wide arc before facing it again. Behind it the shimmering flames continued to flicker, and in them a translucent, almost invisible shape appeared – something hunched, with long, claw-like appendages protruding from its back.

    Noticing the shape in the flames, the captain leapt in surprise before bowing before it, singing in some ancient, vile tongue that even Sally could not understand. The Unseen King seemed to nod, extending the appendages just beyond the boundaries of the fire. It then lifted its head toward the dark sky and opened its beak, emitting a shrill, keening shriek that seemed to split the sky in a million tiny pieces, an anguished for the power it had once controlled. A dark, easily visible shadow began to cloud around it, making the flames brighter rather than snuffing them out. Wide-eyed in utter terror, the prisoners could not even move for fear.

    There is only one way to destroy it, the prescence murmured, as the soldiers, upon noticing the Unseen King, double back at the prospect of the demon destroying Sally.

    What must I do?

    Unzip your mouth.


    She put a stubby hand to the zipper. Somehow, suddenly, unsealing her lips seemed to be the one thing that she could not do.

    The furious Gliscor now leapt into the air, reaching out at her as it rushed towards it; she had only just managed to dive to the right when its claw sliced above her head. Swerving around, it flapped uncertainly in the air, attempting to regain its balance.

    What will happen when I do it? she asked, tracing the jagged zipped line as she kept her eyes fixed on the returning bat-scorpion.

    All of us will perish, the presence replied, almost unconcernedly. You, me, the soldiers, the prisoners … the Unseen King will probably rise again in a few hundred years—

    She dodged the Gliscor’s incoming claw again.

    —But one will survive: the one you devoted your existence to just a few minutes after you met her. There was a reason I chose you above those other two, after all; they did care for her, but only because they felt like they had no choice in the matter.

    Sally’s heart swelled in pride at these words.

    It is fitting that the lone survivor will warn her own country of the danger. The King may be banished, but the soldiers in their vile cities are many.

    Perversely cheered by the presence’s words, she looked the Gliscor in the glaring yellow eyes, waited until destruction by its claws appeared imminent, and yanked the zipper open.

    Pain exploded along every inch of her body, seeming almost to squeeze her into a pulp as her vision rapidly began to darken. Straining herself to see, she noticed the Gliscor yowling in agony as some strange crimson shock wave paralyzed him in midair; even stranger, the energy seemed to be undulating from her own gaping mouth, although the pain made it difficult for this to register. As more and more poured out, its flow intensified with the pain, and it seemed that any moment the wave would suddenly cease and die; but it rushed valiantly on, swirling around the screeching Gliscor. Struggling violently in its confines, the brute gave her one last murderous glare before a great light exploded from within it, leaving only a shriveled, moss-like thing. The moss immediately fluttered to the hard white snow, where it settled gently and remained still.

    Horrified, the soldiers paused in their relentless marching, staring at the remains of the beast. The energy, hungry for victims, was ready for them: it encircled the hapless men, freezing them in place, while another wave pounced upon the prisoners, silencing their screams. Emmi snoozed on, her face oddly peaceful in the destruction around her.

    Snow billowed like waves as the red energy rippled through the entire area, swallowing nearly everything in its path. A Murkrow flying overhead had not even the time to blink before it was consumed. Cursing again, the captain attempted to flee, but he had barely taken two steps before the energy washed around him, halting him as it worked its magic.

    The Unseen King, looking rather unimpressed, turned to the incoming energy and shrieked horribly, slowing but not stopping their progress. As they crawled toward it relentlessly, it turned directly towards Sally, who could dimly acknowledge that its black-and-gold body was appearing more solid. Its bright, ancient yellow eyes spoke volumes of its unrestrained malevolence.

    Then, though her vision was now nearly black, she knew who was speaking when a chilling, dark voice pierced her mind and froze her heart.

    <Foolish girl,> it hissed, <dost thou not know that I shall torment thee after thy death? It is I who doth oversee the paths of souls departed. Thy suffering shall be so great that it shall be whispered of in legends!>

    Her vision blinked out. Will it hurt me when I die? she managed to ask the presence through the pain, attempting in vain to stop her violent shuddering.

    You, and myself as well, the presence replied almost airily, although a faintly veiled tension indicated that it too could feel her anguish. I will die with you. Naturally it knows that I’m here, and who I am, and what I’m doing … but it seems that fate has thrown us together for a longer journey than life can span.

    An enraged, venomous shriek dimly reached her clouding brain: the energy must have at last found the Unseen King. Her eyelids drooped halfway over her now useless eyes; she had never felt so tired. Thank you.

    See you on the other side.


    Together they sighed, a last relieved breath before they relaxed, letting the pain float away as if on a cloud, and there was nothing …

    … nothing …

    … nothing.

    * * *

    The shadows fled as morning brought a new day, a new chance to watch the sun smile upon the world and bathe its snows in bright reddish light. A break in the endless stretch white clouds allowed a strip of the purest blue to show. There had been no recent snowfall to conceal the events of the previous night; the snow was still dotted red where blood had sprayed. There were footprints, boot prints, and claw prints throughout the snow, but none headed toward the ring of tall mountains to the west, which looked lonely after the purging of its valley’s citizens. Shriveled, off-white lichens were scattered on top of the snow, frost clinging to them like jewels. The evil stone altar sat malevolently in the center of the scene, though in the clean light of day its dark appearance seemed diminished. Upon it sat a pile of charred, dead wood, covered in marks which looked ominously like the teeth marks of some frenzied demon. The entire scene seemed like the site of a recent battlefield, a sort of ironic reverence blanketing all that the eye could see.

    Nothing stirred.

    On the western side of the altar, in full view of the mountains, lay a young girl, fully conscious but as still and pale as a corpse. Her dress was tattered and torn, charred black by the dust of ashes. Tiny layers of thin, delicate ice laced across her eyelashes like spider webs, the remnants of tears frozen in the utter cold. Fingers, stiff from the chill, held something close to her chest. The thing looked like some sort of nightmarish ghoul: red eyes glaring sightlessly from a blackened face, a golden tail like a throwing star, looking oddly out of place. But in spite of the ghostly dark body, and the jagged lines of zippers which lined the mouth like uneven yellowed teeth, she resolutely kept her hold on it. The eyes of a child could see those things which existed unseen, and she knew that the ghastly thing in her arms was Sally, whether or not the doll looked like a doll should.

    Emmi closed her eyes for a moment. She would depart soon, navigating her way through the icy valley which was once her home on a quest to inform her country of the attack. She felt far older than her age, as if her soul was that of a bitter crone, locked in a child’s body and mindset. A faint sigh escaped her dark purple lips, and the breath hung in the freezing air for a moment, a tiny white haze shimmering to life before it was extinguished in dissipation. Everything seemed fragile, as if a mere whisper might rekindle the dark fires of real life. They would ignite on their own soon enough, but for now she would simply accept the chill while it lasted.

    For now, she would mourn.
    Last edited by SugarPesticide; 23rd May 2009 at 6:44 AM.
    FF.Net profile | Blazing Frost | Project Valentine | River Styx | Hexachromalurgy | Fizzy Bubbles

    Latest PV pair: Shedinja/Sylveon - What if the MST3K guys did Roshomon? I think it would go a little something like this.

  7. #332
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    I really like that Bannette story.

    In Process: Sudowoodo
    On Deck: Farfetch'd, Cherubi, Salamence family
    Reserve: Froslass (12/21), Articuno (12/24), Blissey (12/31)


    FLAAFFY
    Fire Red entry: Its fluffy fleece easily stores electricity. Its rubbery hide keeps it from being electrocuted.

    TOGEPI
    Emerald entry: As its energy, it uses the feelings of compassion and pleasure exuded by people and Pokemon. It stores up happy feelings in its shell, then shares them out.


    The light in the room shut off. “Good night, girls,” the Trainer said, dropping onto the bed. After a long yawn, she added, “Don’t make too much of a racket.” She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. It had been a long day.

    “<Racket?>” Togepi asked.

    “<Don’t make a lot of noise,>” Flaaffy said, then sighed and dropped her head onto the other bed.

    Togepi looked at her other teammates. They were all tired too, asleep as quickly as their Trainer. But she had napped that afternoon, and hadn’t participated in the Gym battle. Flaaffy wasn’t sleeping either; she seemed miserable, though. The ball at the end of her tail flickered gently, casting a soft glow like a nightlight.

    Wanting to do something, Togepi made it her goal to reach the bed Flaaffy was on. It wouldn’t be easy; her feet and arms were small, so she often got toppled over by her speckled shell. Their Trainer’s backpack was sitting by an armchair. Using that, she hopped up onto the armchair, then onto its arm. Then, it was a careful jump up to a cabinet and she could easily drop down to the bed.

    She giggled. “<Hi. I got up.>”

    “<Yeah, nice work,>” Flaaffy grumbled.

    Togepi tipped herself over and smiled. “<What’s the matter? You’re not usually grumpy.>”

    “<I usually don’t fight terribly in a Gym. Weren’t you watching?>”

    “<Yeah. They were strong Pokemon.>”

    “<I thought I was strong too. But I guess not. I didn’t even last two rounds. Who would have thought a stupid fish could beat me?>”

    “<But you are strong. You’ve beat plenty of Pokemon. I haven’t beat much of anybody.>”

    “<You’ve only been in a few battles.>”

    “<You just had an unlucky day. Cheer up; tomorrow will be better.>”

    Flaaffy rolled her eyes. “<How can you know?>”

    Togepi rocked herself back onto her feet. “<I hope so. You’re a great Pokemon, so don’t let one loss get you down.>”

    “<Hmph.>” She closed her eyes.

    She watched her teammate for a moment and realized she wasn’t asleep, just upset about losing. Bored, Togepi bounced on the bed. She hopped down the bed, then back up, then sprang onto Flaaffy’s back. Her skin was springy enough to send Togepi spinning and crashing into the bed headfirst. It only made her laugh.

    Flaaffy lifted her head and checked on her younger teammate. “<Careful. You don’t want to break your shell.>”

    Still standing on her head, Togepi waved her feet. “<I’m fine!>”

    The sheep then came over and nudged her back upright. A small spark escaped from her wool and hit Togepi. “<Sorry.>”

    “<It’s okay. It don’t hurt that much.>” She waved her arms now. “<Of course, you weren’t trying. When you try, zappo! Lots of power.>”

    “<Hush. Everyone else is very tired. We need our sleep.>”

    “<Okay. You know, she loves you lots, so you shouldn’t be worried.>”

    Flaaffy glanced over at their Trainer. “<I’m not so sure. I didn’t help her much today.>”

    “<But she was really really worried when you fainted. She came back here as soon as she could to heal you.>”

    She tilted her head. “<Did she?>”

    Togepi nodded so enthusiastically that she tipped herself over again. After a quick giggle, she explained, “<I was with her to cheer her up. Look, look, I show you.>” She got herself upright and tapped Flaaffy’s nose to share the memory.

    The Trainer had set Togepi on the counter while Nurse Joy was healing the others. “It was my mistake to call her out then,” she said sorrowfully, scratching Togepi’s head. “I should have remembered that was a bad move. I hope she can forgive me.”

    Back in the darkened room, Togepi gave Flaaffy a friendly kiss. “<She loves you lots, I can feel it. You’re special to her. We’re all special to her, so we have to do our best for her.>”

    Flaaffy nodded. “<Yes, that’s true. Tomorrow’s another day; thanks for reminding me.>” She nosed Togepi again. “<Now get some rest, because we’re probably moving on in the morning.>”

    “<Okay.>” She hopped over and leaned against her partner’s side. Flaaffy lessened the glow of her tail and soon they were both asleep.
    Pokedex OS- Still trying to capture every single Pokemon out there in words: 648/718 Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, and Sinnoh complete!

    Fluer Noir- A story of a black flower, a shameful history, and magic.

  8. #333
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    I love Johto, so I'm glad you used it in the Chikorita entry.
    Why'd you name it Basil?

    The Togepi/flaafy entry was great as expected.
    It was short, but who ever said excellence should be long?

    Darkdragontamer, that entry was great!
    I hope to see more of your entries in the future.

    Until next time!


    Join Hachiko's PokeKingdom today!

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  9. #334
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    Brilliant work!

    I'd like to be added to the PM list.

    And if I may make a request with my first response... Could you do either meditite or medicham (sorry if I missed them). Thanks.

    fb | trades | pc
    *team pose by Luxraymaster

  10. #335
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    Talking cool!

    These are cool.I loved that last story(Yay for kind togpeis!).

    Can I regeast leafeon and eevee please?

    Once again....THESE ARE COOL

    eevlotiun
    http://www.serebiiforums.com/showthr...=246389&page=8

    mew?

    eevee's for the win!


    please click,or I kill you!

  11. #336
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    DDT, that was epic. Really really liked that one. You really captured the mood brilliantly there and conveyed what you wanted to near perfectly. I especially liked the death scene of Sally, that was great.

    The Flaaffy/Togepi one was short but sweet, very pleasant. ^_^ The Feraligatr/Chikorita one was awesome, I love the way you give random characters cameos and pull them off so well. Looking forward to the next one.

  12. #337
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    My internet has a short attention span right now, so hopefully I can get the PMs out.

    I mentioned it before, but Basil was my Chikorita in Crystal. I thought an herb name was nice for its design and happened to like Basil best. I know Chicory is what Chikorita is named by, but that's more of a girl's name. Licorice would be a fitting name too!

    Hi -Hayward-, I'll add you to the list. Haven't done either of those two. As for eevlotiun, I have done Eevee (in the only four Pokemon entry), but not Leafeon.

    In Process: Farfetch'd
    On Deck: Cherubi, Salamence family, Meditite/Medicham, Leafeon
    Reserve: Froslass (12/21), Articuno (12/24), Blissey (12/31)


    SUDOWOODO
    Fire Red entry: It disguises itself as a tree to avoid attack. It hates water, so it will disappear if it starts raining.


    There were Pokemon in the world that loved battle. They would test their skills against each other in dangerous games. Often, they would give control of their lives over to humans in order to fight and become stronger. Sudowoodo was not one of those Pokemon. Most of the time, they stayed hidden deep in the woods, but one was creeping out from the edge in pursuit of a promising smell.

    It was rich and earthy, the smell of nutritious dirt. Like the rest of her kind, she ate dirt and only dirt. She could even distinguish between the dirts of various parts of the forest; if it was clay-heavy, it belonged near the caves, and if it was fairly salty with calcium, it probably came from near the river. But this was a new kind of dirt, not like anything that belonged in the forest. She really wanted to know what it tasted like.

    She looked around from the edge of the tree line. This area had been cleared by humans. Their buildings had been growing out of the ground since last year. The scent she had followed was behind a large chain-link fence. In that fenced-off area, there was a large amount of trees, bushes, and flowers in neat even rows. To the side, there was a large building with a glass roof and a parking lot.

    The dirt was spread all around the nursery and greenhouse. There didn’t seem to be a way for her to get past the chain link fence or the building walls. However, some of the dirt was in the parking lot, unprotected. She could reach that.

    She checked one last time for predators. She was a rock creature, yes, but her body was like chalk, soft and easily hurt. And easily eaten for the predators and battle-happy Pokemon, so Sudowoodo always took caution. Since nothing seemed interested in her, she snuck through the grass and to the parking lot.

    Sitting by a van, there were twelve small Apricorn trees. Apricorns were commonly mistaken for bushes, but the short plants were indeed trees. They had little puffballs of leaves and bore orange fruits with hard pits. These seeds had an odd blessing from Palkia, the master of space: they linked up to little bubbles of extra space, which made them good for storing things and as primitive Pokeballs. More importantly, they looked exactly like a Sudowoodo, for it was the Apricorn tree that her ancestors had sought to mimic for safety and peace.

    They were clustered, two to four in big pots of the rich-smelling dirt. Sudowoodo got into one of the pots and sampled the dirt. It was delicious, spoiling the Apricorns into growing stronger fruits. But she probably couldn’t get a hold of this dirt often; the humans would make this dangerous. Sad, really; it would be good for the young Bonslies.

    “We’d best hurry out,” a man’s voice said. “Pack up the rest of the trees and we’ll go.”

    “Right sir.”

    She froze. They were too close for her to try running away. So she sat absolutely still. If there was one thing her kind was good at, it was being motionless. She also dropped a special skin over her eyes. It was tan colored, so it matched the rest of her body, but transparent enough to allow her to see what was going on. It did turn everything brown, though.

    Two young men came to the back of the truck and began putting the Apricorn trees into the van. Not noticing the subtle signs, they picked up the pot she was in and packed it as well. Then they shut the door and locked it. A minute later, the van trembled and started driving.

    Sudowoodo opened her eyes fully to get a better look around. There were the twelve Apricorn trees, eight evergreen bushes, various flowering plants, bags of mulch, bags of dirt, shovels, hoses, and various other tools. It didn’t make much sense to her. What did make sense was that there would be no easy escape. The van was completely enclosed. The only light came from the front, where the early morning sun came through. But she could smell the humans up there.

    She continued to hold still. That had worked all her life; it had worked for all the Sudowoodos that had come before her. Eventually, there would be a moment to get away. It just required patience.

    Some time later, the van stopped. The humans began unloading the plants and tools in front of a red brick building. A sign out front stated that this was a psychologist’s office. Although it was a carefully designed building, the landscaping was only half done. She disguised her eyes again.

    “The designers called for twelve Apricorns,” the oldest human said.

    “Yeah, and we brought twelve.”

    “There’s thirteen there.”

    The younger one checked over the pots. “Um, I was pretty sure I only grabbed twelve.”

    The older one picked up the pot she was in. It caught her off-balance, which she easily regained by mimicking how the real trees wavered. “Set one aside to bring back. And learn to count next time.”

    The landscapers then set about to planting. They had a special shovel that grabbed onto a pack of dirt and lifted that instead of touching the plants directly. Sudowoodo had to grip the dirt tightly with her feet in order to stay still through this. They set her down in a ditch with five Apricorn trees, then poured dirt and mulch around them.

    As they worked on other plants, Sudowoodo kept alert to an opportunity to make a run for it. She heard the rustle of trees and smelled forest around behind the building. She could go there and check the dirt to figure out where she had gotten. But there was always one human working by her and she couldn’t run that fast.

    The leader of the group came over, carrying frightening looking tools. They had heavy but sharp blades built for cutting tough branches; those could take off her limbs. She tried not to tremble too hard.

    He handed one of the shears to the other human. “Okay kid, now trim up those Apricorns for me. Make them look nice and neat.”

    The leader then stepped over to Sudowoodo and the Apricorn trees. He examined them, eventually coming closer to her and touching one of her false leaf balls. As he was still holding onto the larger pair of shears, she dreaded that her arm would be cut off. Every second he lingered was a torturous period potential discovery or pain.

    “Like this one,” the leader finally said, stepping back. “Even and balanced in appearance with no scraggly leaf spheres.”

    “So trim the rest up to look like that one?”

    “Similar. But leave any growing fruits if you can.”

    Relieved, she continued to hold still while the human worked on the Apricorns. Sometimes he looked at her as if he might trim her up anyhow, but he never did. He also didn’t recognize her as a Pokemon; humans had a hard time distinguishing an Apricorn tree from a hiding Sudowoodo.

    The other young human came around with a hose. “You up for a shower?” he asked jokingly.

    “You’d better not, or else,” the other one retorted, playfully threatening with the shears.

    “It’ll be a tougher shower later on.” He then turned the sprayer to water the transplanted plants.

    She could never hold still during a rainstorm, and apparently she couldn’t hold still when sprayed by a hose. Squealing in shock, she rushed out of the rushing water, towards the corner of the building and safety in the forest behind. The two young men jumped in surprise. “What is that?!”

    The older human managed to catch her and lift her up. “Hold on there. How’d a Sudowoodo get into the Apricorns?”

    “Uh, I’m sure there were just twelve when I brought them out,” the one with the hose restated.

    “Well get that last one and plant it before you get much further.” Then he brought her to the back of the van and kindly toweled her dry. “So, little one, what do you think of becoming a mascot for the greenhouse?”

    And that was the beginning of her new life.
    Last edited by Ysavvryl; 7th December 2008 at 4:51 PM.
    Pokedex OS- Still trying to capture every single Pokemon out there in words: 648/718 Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, and Sinnoh complete!

    Fluer Noir- A story of a black flower, a shameful history, and magic.

  13. #338
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    Aw, what a sweet Togepi. ^_^ And I loved Sudowoodo's reaction to the water, especially after all that effort to stay still. But who'll feed those little Bonsly?

    Also, thanks to everyone for the feedback. I do have a few more guest entries in mind, but they might not show up for a while, seeing as the last one took forever to write.
    FF.Net profile | Blazing Frost | Project Valentine | River Styx | Hexachromalurgy | Fizzy Bubbles

    Latest PV pair: Shedinja/Sylveon - What if the MST3K guys did Roshomon? I think it would go a little something like this.

  14. #339
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    So, I haven't played Mystery Dungeon either, but I read a few MD fanfics this week and thought the setting would be perfect for this. I do actually have a DS now, but only Animal Crossing for it. Though, I like being able to see my Castlevania games clearly!

    In Process: Cherubi
    On Deck: Shelgon/Salamence, Meditite/Medicham, Leafeon
    Reserve: Froslass (12/21), Articuno (12/24), Blissey (12/31)


    FARFETCH'D
    Ruby/Sapphire entry: Farfetch’d is always seen with a stick from a plant of some sort. Apparently, there are good sticks and bad sticks. This Pokemon has been known to fight with others over sticks.

    BAGON
    FR/LG entry: Its steel-hard head can shatter boulders. It longingly hopes for wings to grow so it can fly.

    NATU
    Leaf Green entry: Because its wings aren't yet fully grown, it has to hop to get around. It is always staring at something.


    Patchwork Cave was one of the stranger Mystery Dungeons in the region. Most Dungeons had at least the same look, if random layouts. Patchwork Cave seemed to have random looks as well. One chamber would be pale white limestone while the next would be sparkling red sandstone. One would have a lots of water while another would be as dry as bone. Because of this, it was much easier to get lost in Patchwork Cave than to find the exit.

    “Are you sure that we shouldn’t have taken an easier mission instead?” Bagon asked.

    “Buck up, buddy,” Farfetch’d replied, twirling his green and white stick around. “Patchwork Cave is known for holding amazing treasures. We might pick up something awesome along the way.”

    “Our client got lost because she was looking for treasure and got in trouble. Who’s to say that we won’t get trapped too?”

    “Isn’t it a little strange that you’re the worried one?” Natu asked.

    “Just because I like cliff diving doesn’t mean I’m reckless. My last group ditched me because I was too practical for their tastes.”

    “Pity for them.” The small bird glanced around, then pointed his beak towards a pile of rocks. “Could you clear that? I think that’s the way.”

    “That’s the rockslide, huh? All right.” Bagon lowered her head, then charged at the rocks. The pile collapsed into the next room, clearing the path. “There you go.”

    Natu hopped over, then bowed. “Good work. Hopefully the Jynx isn’t far. Farfetch’d, go check that hole up there.”

    “Right-o.” Once he got into the new chamber, he flew up to the hole and peered around. “Heeelloooo? Any cuties stuck down thereeeee?”

    The leader of the team sighed and hopped along down the chamber. Bagon followed him, glancing up at her teammate. “Is he always like that?”

    “Yes, but it’s not enough for me to dissolve the team. Hmm? What’s that?”

    At the end of this chamber, there was a crack in the ceiling, allowing a shaft of golden sunlight to descend upon a strange rock. The white rock had been carved into a perfect cube. Stuck in it, or growing out of it, was a green and white stick just like the one Farfetch’d carried. There was something mysterious and majestic about the set-up.

    “But it’s a stick,” Bagon said, tilting her head. “Who would go to this effort to display a stick?”

    “I know who would,” Natu replied. She hopped around. “Farfetch’d! There’s something you should see.”

    “What, a luscious babe?” He flew down to them. “Are you just,” then he looked past them to see the stick. His lower beak dropped. “Tha... that...”

    “It’s a stick,” Bagon said helpfully.

    He hopped up and flapped his wings. “That’s not just a stick! I never thought I’d ever... that’s the legendary Styxcaliber! Oh my word, I think I’m gonna faint.”

    “Get the bag,” Natu ordered.

    “Oh, uh, right, that bag!” The Bagon opened up her pack and pulled out a brown paper sack. She put that over Farfetch’d beak. “We can’t have you fainting this far into Patchwork Cave.”

    After taking a few deep breaths, Farfetch’d pulled the bag off. “Phew thanks. Anyhow, that is Styxcaliber, the most powerful stick known to Pokemonkind. It was owned by the greatest Farfetch’d warrior king ever, King Farthur who ruled over the fair kingdom of Pokelot with his lovely Queen Genev’re. It is said that whoever can pull Styxcaliber from the rock will be the best hero of the age. And it’s right here in front of us!”

    “Are you making that up?” Bagon asked.

    “No! It’s a precious tale passed on from Farfetch’d to Farfetch’d for generations. I would not joke about Styxcaliber.” He crossed his wings across his chest and stuck his beak in the air.

    “But it looks like your stick.”

    “It is not like my stick. My stick is good, yes, but Styxcaliber is perfect! It has the perfect balance of weight, the ideal shape for gripping with a beak or wing, thin edges that never dull... it’s every Farfetch’d’s dream to own Styxcaliber. So I’m gonna take it.”

    “Are you sure? Natu?” She looked at their leader; he was staring at Styxcaliber with wide eyes. “Natu? What’s wrong?”

    “He does this from time to time, no biggie. I’ll just...”

    He waddled towards the stick in the stone, but Natu quickly hopped into his path. “Don’t draw that stick.”

    “What? Why not? It’s the best stick ever.”

    “Something evil is sealed by the stick. I see great destruction, battles that last all day, evil clouds, leaping flames... do not take that stick.”

    “Are you sure about that? What if we’re supposed to take the stick in order to fight against the great destruction you see?”

    “I guess it could be... but should we really risk it?”

    “We’ll be fine. You just worry too much.” Farfetch’d hopped up with a quick flap of his wings to get on top of the cube stone.

    “And you don’t worry enough.”

    “Oh, I’m sure.” He grabbed hold of Styxcaliber with his wing and pulled. However, the stick wouldn’t budge. “Sheesh... it’s... really stuck in there.”

    “Maybe if you use your beak?” Bagon suggested.

    “Maybe.” He bit onto Styxcaliber and jerked upward. His beak slipped and he tumbled off the rock. “Owww.”

    “So you’re not ready to take your legendary stick,” Natu said, sighing in relief. “Come, we still have to find Jynx.”

    “Sooo disappointing,” Farfetch’d moaned, looking mournfully at Styxcaliber. Then he turned and followed his teammates into the next chamber. “Now when are we gonna find the babe?”


    ((I could've used the Master Stick, like Legend of Zelda. But Styxcaliber is funnier.))
    Pokedex OS- Still trying to capture every single Pokemon out there in words: 648/718 Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, and Sinnoh complete!

    Fluer Noir- A story of a black flower, a shameful history, and magic.

  15. #340
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    That was excellent, I really love how the stick was introduced. And Farfetch'd's babe obsession! XD

    Is it just me, or is it really odd that a bird would crush on a woman-thing? o0;
    FF.Net profile | Blazing Frost | Project Valentine | River Styx | Hexachromalurgy | Fizzy Bubbles

    Latest PV pair: Shedinja/Sylveon - What if the MST3K guys did Roshomon? I think it would go a little something like this.

  16. #341
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    “What, a luscious babe?” He flew down to them. “Are you just,” then he looked past them to see the stick. His lower beak dropped. “Tha... that...”

    “It’s a stick,” Bagon said helpfully.

    He hopped up and flapped his wings. “That’s not just a stick! I never thought I’d ever... that’s the legendary ! Oh my word, I think I’m gonna faint.”
    lol Styxcaliber
    R.I.P Dusk i miss you

  17. #342
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    Looks like a have to review a couple of stories.

    The Chikorita story was great. I loved the character.

    The Banette story was... well, epic. There's no other way to describe it. The sheer scope and dynamic atmosphere tied in with the creepiness created a really interesting entry.

    The Togepi/Flaffy entry was incredably cute, and reading right after the Banette entry created a stark contrast.

    The Sudowoodo story was hillarious. Just picturing the looks on the two guys faces as what they though was a tree just bolted off still has me laughing.

    As for the Farfetch'd/Bagon/Natu story:

    After taking a few deep breaths, Farfetch’d pulled the bag off. “Phew thanks. Anyhow, that is Styxcaliber, the most powerful stick known to Pokemonkind. It was owned by the greatest Farfetch’d warrior king ever, King Farthur who ruled over the fair kingdom of Pokelot with his lovely Queen Genev’re. It is said that whoever can pull Styxcaliber from the rock will be the best hero of the age. And it’s right here in front of us!”
    That whole paragraph made me laugh. The tie in to Zelda was cool also.

    Whew...

    I need to keep up more to avoid having to read so many at once.

    Great entries all around, and I hope darkdragontamer can write another one.
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  18. #343
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    The Sudowoodo one was rather cute, I liked it. Successfully restoring the pride of something slaughtered in 4th gen. ^_^

    Farfetch'd/Bagon/Natu was rather funny. XD Styxcalibur, what a great name for a stick. Classic. And Farfetch'd was a riot, the babe obsession was well pulled off. =D

  19. #344
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    As always, awesome stories Ysavvryl. I especially liked the legend of Styxcalibur; 'Farthur' made me LOL XD.

    Congratulations on a fantastic story to Darkdragontamer, too. I think I know what the Unseen King was but what was the presence?

    I have an idea for another guest entry myself. I'll PM it to you, Ysavvryl, though I'm not sure what you'll think of it.
    Last edited by Inconspicuosaurus; 14th December 2008 at 6:37 PM.
    3DS Name: James
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    Happy to help people find out what their safari is.
    Palaeontologist and proud.
    Previously known as JammyU.

  20. #345
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    Cherubi's entries really aren't fair to it. I mean, look at that Diamond one! The Pearl entry isn't much better (something about it shriveling for evolution). Poor Cherubi.

    -Hayward-, I can't send any PMs to you, sorry.

    Also, I was gathering some stats on these one-shots, just for fun, and I noticed something: I have no entries for any third gen starters! Whaaaat??? On the plus side, though, there's one for each of the second gen starters, which is nice.

    In Process: Shelgon/Salamence
    On Deck: Meditite/Medicham, Leafeon
    Reserve: Froslass (12/21), Articuno (12/24), Blissey (12/31)


    CHERUBI
    Diamond entry: The small ball holds the nutrients needed for evolution. Apparently, it is very sweet and tasty.

    CROAGUNK
    Pearl entry: Inflating its poison sacs, it makes an eerie blubbering sound for intimidation.


    The sky rumbled. Dark clouds advanced. Pokemon began to lie low. A storm was moving into the swamps.

    Deep in a bush, a red spot quivered. Cherubi was certain now that coming this way to explore had been a mistake. There were pretty flowers in here that made tasty nectar, but there were more dangers than he had expected. The ground was almost liquid at some points; his weight was minuscule, but he still had to struggle out of one slimy pool before it swallowed him up. One flower had nearly eaten him.

    And not just the flower. Lots of strange Pokemon had chased after him. There were many predators in his home meadow too, but at least he knew what they were and what they could do. Here, he had met moving vines, electrical threats, and some very mean bugs. There was even one Pokemon that manipulated fire; he had been lucky to escape that one’s notice.

    Could he make it out of the swamp before the storm struck fully? He’d be taking a risk moving when there might be strong winds coming, definitely heavy rains. But this bush wouldn’t be great cover either.

    Thunder rumbled overhead.

    ‘Think of sunny days in the meadow,’ he thought. That would make things seem better, at least. The beautiful sunny days, when the rays came down warm and strong, with not a cloud in the sky. Meadow flowers bloomed brightly; the grasses waved gently, offering thick cover for hiding. He and the other Cerubi would be playing hide-and-seek, or watching the Cherrims dance and sing with joy. Beautiful sunny days, with croaking...

    Croaking?

    Croa-gu-gu-gu.

    Cherubi brought his mind back to the miserable present and looked around. There didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary to see, but something smelled different. Something smelled rather bad, like the slimy pool that had nearly swallowed him. That something was to his right, almost behind him.

    He turned and saw a patch of pale blue before a blob of sticky mud got thrown at his hiding bush. Cherubi fled in time to avoid getting hit, but then was out in the open to face his hunter. She was an amphibian of some sort, to judge from her slick skin, webbed feet, and bulging eyes.

    The frog made a fist and held it up in a threatening manner. “<You hold still, yes?>”

    “<No,>” he said, shakily. “<Not for you!>” He hurried to fly away.

    He didn’t get far when she jumped into his path. “<Sweet little one, stay. You’re mine.>”

    “<You just want to eat me,>” he cried, rushing in another direction. Maybe if he flew over one of the slimy pools, she would get stuck. He spun his small leaves as fast as he could. “<Dear Shaymin, don’t let the wind start now,>” he prayed softly.

    This time when she jumped at him, she pushed her fist ahead with a dark energy. “<I won’t let you go.>”

    “<Couldn’t you...>” he panted, “<not eat someone that can talk to you?>”

    The skin on her neck shook, making that ‘gu-gu’ noise again. “<Couldn’t you not deny me a meal?>”

    She jabbed a fist at him, raising spines that were probably poisonous. Cherubi darted out of the way just in time for the storm winds to strike. They grabbed hold of him and flung him away as hard as a wind could manage. He crashed into a path, rolling for several feet to lie right below the beak of a large bird.

    This was bad. Trembling, he closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure he could get off the ground right now, and even if he could, the winds could toss him into a slimy pool instead. Would he never see the sun again?

    “What’s that?”

    A human voice? Cherubi opened his eyes. Overhead, he saw a teenaged boy, struggling to hold his brown hair out of his eyes. His brown trenchcoat flapped in the heavy winds, showing a Trainer’s belt with several Pokeballs attached. The Staravia that had just frightened him was owned by the boy, and thus wouldn’t be inclined to prey on others.

    Thanking his lucky flowers, he struggled to get upright. “<Would you take me? Please?>” It would be a safe life, a productive one. Maybe rough, what with all the battles humans held, but the boy would surely take care of him. Right?

    “What’s a Cherubi doing out here?” the boy asked. “This isn’t your standard territory.”

    “<And we’re not here looking for a featherweight like you,>” Staravia added, puffing himself up importantly.

    “Cro-gu-gu-gu,” the frog called out, then hopped onto the path. “<Don’t keep me from my meal, stranger.>”

    The human boy clenched his fist victoriously. “Finally, a Crogunk! Get rid of the little guy, we’re taking that one.”

    “<Bub-bye, twirp,>” the Staravia taunted right before beating his wings furiously to create a small whirlwind.

    “<He-hey!>” The whirlwind picked Cherubi up and tossed him even further away.

    But they were taking the, the, Croagunk, right? They were taking the Croagunk away. There could be others, though. The swamp was too dangerous for him.

    However, the winds were moving in the direction of his meadow. Not straight for it, but enough that he might be able to ride his way there. He spun his leaves quickly to gain enough altitude for the distance he needed to go.

    With some luck, he’d be able to land near the meadow and wait the storm out.
    Last edited by Ysavvryl; 14th December 2008 at 6:44 PM.
    Pokedex OS- Still trying to capture every single Pokemon out there in words: 648/718 Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, and Sinnoh complete!

    Fluer Noir- A story of a black flower, a shameful history, and magic.

  21. #346
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    This one was nice. I loved the logic between Croagunk and Cherubi, like teenagers. XD The Cherubi was rather cute though I found. ^_^

    Hmm, I feel it's time for a request. LudicoloL/Shiftry, whichever you get a better idea for would be awesome. =D

  22. #347
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    Seems i had quite alot of catching up to do but it was worth it. All the stories were as good as ever. I am going away soon and probably wont be back until January so hopefully there will be even more new ones

  23. #348
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    Ugh, creepy Croagunk. That poor, sweet little Cherubi doesn't deserve to get scared by one. Nice work, as usual. ^_^

    And thanks again for the kudos. The presence? I'll give you a hint. Consider what Banette is, and think: what if that transformation process wasn't one-sided?

    I've actually just gotten around to starting another one (shocking!), though I should warn everyone it's going to be just as depressing as the Banette one, if not more. =P
    FF.Net profile | Blazing Frost | Project Valentine | River Styx | Hexachromalurgy | Fizzy Bubbles

    Latest PV pair: Shedinja/Sylveon - What if the MST3K guys did Roshomon? I think it would go a little something like this.

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    I enjoy your writings. Read the first pages and last pages. There is probably more in between so i need to catch up. They are good though.

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    I hope that Cherubi made it back home safely. I was worried for the little guy.

    The frog made a fist and held it up in a threatening manner. “<You hold still, yes?>”
    That is exactly how I pictured a Croagunk would talk.

    “<And we’re not here looking for a featherweight like you,>” Staravia added, puffing himself up importantly.
    For some reason or another, the Staravia's response made me laugh.

    I guess I'll have to put in a request to fix the lack of third-gen starters.

    I think you could write a good Torchic story.

    Also, its nice to see darkdragontamer is returning. I'm looking forward to that one, no matter how depressing it ends up being.
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