True to my word, I've decided to dive right into Serebii's forums to post a Pokemon fanfiction I'm in the process of writing. Hope it works.
As my first attempt at a Pokemon fic, I think I'm doing pretty well... of course, knowing how I judge my own work, my view is probably overinflated. I'm young, sure, and blessed with some sort of "talent," but I'm a tad arrogant >.<
But I digress. I plan to post the chapters I've written as I finish newer ones in a new post in this thread, as most people here do it- I think. Naturally, as readers, your job is to tell me how you liked it and whatnot, right? Hopefully, I can get a small following going here.
Of course, if possible, editors are warmly welcomed here, as it'd be nice to have my chapters read over and given a review.
This fanfiction is currently rated PG-13 as many chapters contain violence/foul language. It's mild at most (except for battle scenes), but it's in there.
Anyway, if you haven't been scared away by my excessive waffle, I present to you the first chapter of an epic tale:
The frigid wind brought with it the undeniable feeling of disaster. It blew across the frost-covered plateau, lifting up powdery snow from pine trees in its guiding palm; each gliding flake sparkling in the sunlight. Though the scene was as divine as ever, I only sensed disaster; terrible, tragic disaster.
My horn tingled slightly. Instinctively, I turned my head towards the source of the wind. My horn felt more pull than normal- as if the disaster was on a much larger scale this time. I was accustomed to powerful disasters, as my dangerous (but rewarding) occupation brought me in the line of fire more times than I cared to remember, but there seemed to be a certain urgency in the wind. The disaster must’ve been considerably larger… not that it mattered, knowing how capable I was at my duty.
As I prepared to dash toward the scene, the wind changed direction, suddenly pushing me forward. I felt the gust run through my fur like the flow of blood through my body. With a great leap, I charged across the plateau, paying no heed to the steep drop. When I hit the slope at the base of the mesa, I picked up speed rapidly, kicking up snow behind me.
I weaved effortlessly between trees and foliage that dotted the hill, my horn’s shivering increasing. Onward I charged, correctly predicting each turn and brush. The thrill of gracefully threading myself through the trees was something I always had enjoyed, the pulse of my horn a speedy tempo that gave me a rate at which to rhythmically rush through the pine needles. After a while, I burst into a clearing beyond the trees and abruptly halted to survey the area. My horn was still pulling me forward, but I spotted movement farther down.
I squinted through the blinding noon sun. Yes, there definitely was something moving down below, though I couldn’t discern any features. A Pokémon, brown and white. It seemed to be looking for something- or someone.
Suddenly, it perked its neck up towards me. It stared at me for a second, and I stared back. Suddenly, it came rushing towards me. I braced myself, ready to fight. However, as it approached me, I noticed it was no enemy- it was a Furret, a native of the mountain.
It continued dashing, getting closer until it was nearly upon me. I realized what was about to happen, as I was very aware of the fact that Furrets did not always properly judge distance. I tensed up and guarded myself. It ran into me with a light thud, rebounding off me then flipping twice before falling to the snow.
I stood there, unscathed. The creature wasn’t moving, but it was not injured. I had apparently knocked the wind out of it. However, I questioned it immediately. “Furret, tell me quickly: what is the disaster down below?”
The creature shuddered, then slowly stood to face me, covered in snow. He spoke distraughtly, his voice squeaking. “Absol, you may already know, but something’s gone terribly wrong with the Machoke of the valley.” He paused, waiting for a response. I urged him on. “It’s… they’re acting really strange, and are setting fire to the trees in the area.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Is it some sort of mass awakening of ancient powers? No? Hmmm.” I began to pace warily, feeling the distracting pull of my horn all the while. “So, they’re using fire. How is it being used?” Questioning the Furret was proving useful.
Furret shook his head, and then lay down in the snow. “I didn’t see much, but they were shooting flames from their mouth. It was really warm, too; it heated the entire area.”
“How many of them were there?” I asked anxiously.
He contemplated the query for a second. “Quite a few, I think. At least three, probably more.”
“Well, do you have any idea WHY they’re doing all this?”
“I’m not sure… a few Machoke had gone missing barely two days ago, and the ones down in the valley looked very much alike to the missing ones. I think humans have something to do with this.”
I scowled violently at the notion. Human interference in my mountain was something I did not approve of. “Well, in that case, I’ll keep on the alert for humans.”
Furret nodded, his tail moving from side to side. “You won’t be in danger, right?”
“No, no, not at all, I should be able to handle it. Thank you for the concern, though.”
He smiled calmly. “I know you can do it again, you always have. Make us proud.”
I nodded. “Many thanks for the information, Furret. Stay safe.”
Armed with this intriguing information, I headed off without another word, this time without the wind’s guidance. My horn was still tingling, acting as my only compass. It continued to lead me forward then helpfully directed me left as I came to a blocked stone passageway.
I felt the increase in temperature before I saw the damage. The normally freezing mountain atmosphere was much warmer than I had expected, so much that no snow fell. Even worse was the field itself. A large circular clearing had been scorched free of snow and a few trees lingering around the edges. Black smoke arose from some of the scalded wood, and ashes still lingered in the air.
I gasped as I saw the destruction. My mountain, being terrorized by some sort of corrupted Pokémon… As my eyes took in the scene, I noticed that the Machoke had fled, but they left a strong trail of disaster in their wake. Fury began to build in me, knowing that humans might be involved in this defilement of my land. I also considered the strangeness of how this was set up: why was a single patch of my land being upturned? What possible use could humans have for this? I decided not to worry about it, since I would likely be interrogating a few helpless Machoke within minutes.
I stretched my legs to leave, ready to topple the rogues. However, before I let myself move, another thought crossed my mind.
The freezing climate of northern Sinnoh meant that this small mountain was draped in thick snow year-round. Since my birth I had been continuously surrounded by white, never a break in the shower of flakes to see what the world beneath felt like.
I had never touched earth in my entire life.
My horn’s attraction to the disaster faded until I felt nothing unnatural. Now was my chance to experience the feeling of actual ground…
I stepped onto the dirt. A feeling of excitement welled up in me, an emotion stronger than what I felt in combat. The clumps of earth clung to my toes, something that I was happy to experience for the first time. I ran my paw through the ground, lifting soil up gently. After a few times, though, my paws slowed to a stop. I sighed.
As much as I wanted to relish the moment, my duty was more important. I knew that I may never touch earth again, but finding the rampaging Pokémon was a task I could not ignore. It was my duty, and though I despised the power my horn had over me, there was nothing I could do.
I took off running, still enjoying the dirt clinging under my feet. I left the clearing, forging a path through the thick olive green underbrush with my horn, working my way around trees and dashing frantically whenever a break in the growth appeared. Soon, the familiar tingling began again. I let my horn lead the way.
It didn’t take long to find the Pokémon. Through the pine needles, I saw that four well-built Machoke were held up by a brave group of three Sneasels and two Weaviles. The Machoke were clearly having a hard time keeping up with the opposing group’s speed, but could occasionally land solid blows on them. I approached stealthily, knowing that either side could take me as an enemy.
The smallest Sneasel of the group noticed me, but I gave what I hoped was a reassuring glance. It seemed to be convinced, or was at least too busy with the Machoke to care. Hanging low and trying to disguise my black face within the snow, I crept up to the Machoke as it threw a harsh punch, knocking one of the Weaviles to the ground.
Poised directly behind the Pokémon, I felt a sudden power flow to my horn, as if a greater being had taken control of my body and directed all my energy into it. Finally, the thrill of battle would return to my blood after a long absence, along with vengeance for my domain.
I gave a mighty thrust into the Machoke’s back. I felt my horn pierce the traitorous Pokémon’s skin and dig into its spine. As I broke the surface, the Machoke roared shrilly and threw wild punches toward its side. I removed my horn to get a look at the wound. To my exhilaration, a crimson droplet fell from my horn to the snow and spread slowly in the white.
As the first Machoke collapsed to the ground, the other three turned to me in fury. I charged towards the next, feeling the energy in my horn again, but it responded faster than I thought it would. I felt my front legs shriek in agony as I lost control and toppled to the ground. I lay there for a second, waiting for the pain to die away. It took me a second to realize I had been felled by a single attack- it definitely didn’t fly with me. Nothing felt broken, but my vision was red and I had trouble breathing. When I regained sight and balance, I noticed in dismay that the Sneasels had fled, and the Weavile was dragging his friend from the scene.
I backed away slowly, putting distance between me and the foes. My eyes held firm on the closest Machoke.
I contemplated the scene for a few moments. In addition to incredible strength and thick skin, the Pokémon were able to breathe fire, meaning that getting close to them would be a challenge. They seemed to be slow enough for me to evade should they attack, but I didn’t want to take any chances. A lower strike would be risky, even with my own considerable strength and speed. More or less, I was a master of aerial attacks; even the smallest of hops before an attack gave me greater mobility and momentum. I waited for the right moment, then leapt high above them.
To my surprise, one of them fired a bright blast of crimson flame in my direction with adept aim. Unable to steer myself away, I was hit directly. I felt my body singe as the fire engulfed me. I screeched in agony and plummeted downward, hitting the ground with a soft plunk.
My vision left, came back, and left again. I couldn’t keep track of the moments; I felt my mind shifting out of focus.
The Machoke… natives of the mountain had betrayed me. My rage grew every second I lay there, supplemented by the struggle to stay awake. How I would have my revenge, if only I could…
My entire body burned as if I had touched the sun. I tried to look around, but my head was dizzy from the shock; I could only give up and lie down, hoping that they wouldn’t continue attacking.
Thankfully, they didn’t. I heard muffled footsteps trudging away from me. Then, right before I passed, I heard the gruff, hateful voice of a Machoke.
“Leave the Absol. It’s going to die. Let it.”