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Heya, it's been a while, but for those of you happened to remember some of the chatter associated with Hunting Game in the lead-up to its release might have remembered me mentioning that I'd written it in part as a mechanical pilot to an anthology of some shorter and more lighthearted one-shots I had in the oven. Well, that'd be this one that you're reading right now.
Now, if these one-shots happen to read familiar to you... well, they should. The initial set of one-shots published here are expanded and overhauled versions of the drabbles I submitted for the Third Anniversary Drabble Bingo way back in May 2022 and Fourth Anniversary Drabble Bingo in May 2023, so while some details got changed around, the stories were largely the same. I have included the original drabbles in spoiler blocks along with the prompts they answered for posterity's sake, though they should be considered as a curiosity rather than as content to pick apart in depth. Not least of all since they're quite unpolished relative to the final product.
Time will tell just how much things wind up outgrowing that initial base of stories since this one-shot collection happens to have one of those "theoretically indefinitely expandable premises", but as my latest sideshow to a sideshow I’ve got going on from my main work, this is one of those "bumps whenever I have time, energy, and motivation to make things happen" projects. But hey, there will be at least fifteen stories in this thing for your reading pleasure before I decide that I'm done with it.
These one-shots are uploaded in the order they were originally written in and are designed to be read in any order the reader pleases. To that end, I've added a cute little table of contents added as a little flourish for those that want to just skip straight to one or another story with little blurbs about what their rough premises are. But that's enough rambling from my end for now. Let's get right into things...
Like a Dragon
It is the world of Pokémon and you are a dragon, a word that means many things to many sorts. Mighty and meek. Strong and weak. Covered in scale and fur and most everything in between. These are your stories, ones about the various creatures who can claim such a title.
Even if some of them might seem strange to others at a first glance.
A Guarding Dragon It is in the nature of dragons to stand guard over their treasures. Even if you are a Flapple, you are no different.
A Dragon's Ferocity Ampharos are unassuming creatures, ones that a human might find cute and unthreatening. You thought the same once, until you saw one display a power and ferocity like your own. A Dragon's Lineage The birth of a child is a milestone in the life of any Pokémon, not least of all for a dragon. Few things are said to be stronger than a parent’s love, but can that still be the case when your child is so different from you?
A Dragon's Savior When others speak of a dragon, they might reflexively think of strong and fearsome creatures that make the world tremble at their approach. You are a dragon and are none of those things. And in your current predicament right now, you find yourself wishing that such a dragon was around to come to your aid.
A Dragon Someday Last year, your closest friend, your partner, was taken from you because you didn’t have the strength to fight off your enemies. In your quest to get him back, you’ve come across treasures that promise to give you just the strength you need… if you can just steal it first.
A Flightless Dragon Bagon like you are creatures who hear the call of the heavens above, enough so that you can feel it in your bones… even as your attempts to fly keep bringing you crashing to earth. Your place in the sky like a proper dragon lies just beyond your grasp. Perhaps all you need to claim it is just a little leap of faith.
A Dragon’s Valor Charizard are supposed to be noble creatures that fly about the sky in search of powerful opponents, creatures with the might of a dragon who back down from no challenge, even if some might insist they’re not truly dragons. You thought that you would also be like that after finally leaving your smaller, meeker self behind… except it’s proving harder than you expected.
A Dragon’s Folklore Like humans, dragons pass tales on from parent to child: of their past, their homes, their journeys, and their feats. Even if Druddigon like your family may not be mighty warriors in your land, you still carry a legacy as noble guardians thousands of years long, a legendary lineage that your children deserve to learn and grow proud of.
A Treasured Dragon Pokémon that live among humans are said to have their lives intertwine with one other. Yours has taken you out to this remote desert searching and digging for traces of others that did much the same in the distant past. Your human has even awakened the power of dragons in you to help to that end, but after such a fruitless search will it really make a difference?
A Kingly Dragon As the king of your realm, you have asserted your might and fended off your rivals with fang and claw. For the longest time, you thought no power could challenge you. But one day one came which upended your entire world.
A Dragon's Might As a Fraxure, battle-lust pounds in your veins. Your life training in a human Gym gives you the opportunity to wield your strength against many foes and grow ever stronger. However, those foes manage to catch you off-guard, much as they did when you discovered that they too could wield power like yours.
A Restless Dragon Shelgon are Pokémon which are at once blessed with budding strength, and shackled firmly to earth by a cumbersome body. Watching the world around you seemingly keep passing you by since evolving is an often disheartening and frustrating experience. Sometimes, you find yourself wishing you for a place to just hide away from it all.
A Mythical Dragon Cyclizar are dragons that have lived alongside Paldea’s humans for untold ages, using their swift feet to ferry riders to and fro. It is custom among your kind to trade tall tales from your wanderings, including ones of fantastical monsters and beasts. And once every now and then, those stories sometimes turn out to be true.
Turffield had always been a quiet town, its rhythms dictated by the surrounding farms and their harvests. While life had taken a quicker pace in the town itself, especially after the local stadium was built, its surroundings remained as quiet and bucolic as ever. And so it was for you that day, on the same old dirt lane, next to the same old apple orchard, all under the same old sky under the drifting clouds.
You even stood guard on the same old stand put out for harvest time: a shabby table with a raised ledge at its deep end you sat on, overlooking cardboard cartons resting at an angle that were stocked with the same red apples that grew year in and year out. They were set out next to the same old sign and the same old chipped cup offering them up for sale. Three for the price of one of those ‘soda pops’ that were all the rage.
Clink.
Along with the same clatter of metal against porcelain that jolts you to attention. You raise your eyes briefly from your disguise and see a gray-haired woman dropping some spare change into it before grabbing at one of the apples on the shelf. You let your gaze linger jealously on her for a moment, only to turn away and slink back into your cover as the sound of footsteps shuffles off. Just another normal sale, and from one of the same old customers to this orchard. One that’d probably been giving business for quite a while.
The family that ran this orchard had set aside a small portion of their stock every growing season for travelers for years, perhaps for centuries. If the stories told by your mentor who used to keep watch for the orchard were to be believed, they’d kept this practice alive since the times when humans wore metal armor and fought with blades much as Sirfetch’d do. Times that even a dragon would find to be from a distant, unrecognizable era. Fortunately, the process by which the orchard sold off the part of its stock you watched over was simple to understand: take an apple from the hoard of red fruits set out, and then add some change to the hoard of coins in the cup. A gesture of goodwill and trust to those passers-by.
“Oi, look, there’s free food just lying around there.”
Except, every year, there were always a handful of travelers that would abuse that trust, and you were pretty sure you could see a few more of their ilk right now from your hiding place: a stocky young man and a gangly girl. The pair were both dressed in black with ridiculous pink hair and face paint.
That was why you were here: to serve as the orchard’s trusted guardian over its little hoard of fruit and coins. The loutish humans hadn’t noticed you yet, and you keep a careful, watchful eye over them as the man reaches for one of the apples and bite into it much to his partner’s skepticism.
Your mentor told you stories in the past of how sometimes it was best to take a gentler approach with passersby who would abuse the trust of the orchard. When they were needy or desperate, or when they’d simply failed to read the sign. Circumstances that merited a stern but patient warning, or sometimes even a blind eye in understanding.
“Aren’t you supposed to pay for that first, bruv?”
“I don’t see anyone actually bothering to sell them. And someone just left this money lying around! Finders keepers!”
Though from the man’s words and way he was reaching for the coin-hoard in the cup, a gentle approach would clearly not do. You uncoil yourself from your hiding place, a larger apple hiding in plain sight on the raised shelf at the top of the stand, and stretch your neck out to telegraph your warning.
“Wait, why does it suddenly smell like flowers right now?”
The humans turn and look up at you, with your disguise revealed. You uncoil your body and spread your wings, fanning them wide to make yourself look bigger and remind the pair that even if it was a modest dragon hoard, that it was yours, and that they stole from it at their own peril. To make your message clear, you raise your voice and let out the fiercest roar you could muster…
Which judging from the look on the man’s face, still needs a bit of work to make it sound more imposing.
“Ah, it’s just a Flapple,” he scoffed. “What, come here to help yourself to some apples, too?”
You narrow your eyes and feel bile build up at the back of your throat after seeing the man pick up the cup. You’d given him fair warning, now it was time to show this would-be thief that you meant business. You spit up a spray of fluid at his coat, which sizzles against the fabric, bubbling up as the acid eats away at its surface. That gets your message across, and the humans’ arrogance quickly evaporates as their eyes shoot wide and they recoil with startled yelps.
“Ack! Blimey!”
“I told you you were supposed to pay for that!” the woman cried. “Let’s get out of here!”
The man hurriedly throws aside his jacket as your acid burns holes into it and the pair take off running down the path, the man dropping his purloined apple along the way. Good riddance, really.
You make your way down from your perch and right the cup and the coin-hoard, carefully returning the loose coins that came out. Then you turn your attention to the jacket and tug at it to move it off the path. No sense in leaving it lying around to make other travelers unsafe and scare them off. You bite down on a corner and pull it away onto the other side of the road, when you hear a jingling noise. A quick nose into a pocket and search with your claws turns up some coins in it.
Enough to have bought at least three of the stand’s apples had the man just been honest.
You take the coins and add them to the cup, before taking the bitten apple the loutish man abandoned and returning to your perch. For whatever reason, humans had a habit of turning up perfectly good apples after someone else gave even the littlest of bites to them, but that was hardly a loss for you.
It was back to the same old quiet, watching over the same old stand on the same old lane outside of Turffield. Except now you had a snack as you waited for the next traveler to come by.
Original Drabble:
Charizard
Cute but Ferocious
Flapple
Dragons' Lineage
Goomy
A Dragon Someday
Ekans
Flightless
Exeggutor
Turffield had always been a quiet, humble town, with its rhythms dictated by the growth and harvests of the nurturing bowl of its many terraced farming fields. While life had taken a quicker pace in the town itself, especially after the construction of its stadium, its surroundings remained as quiet and bucolic as ever. And so it was for you that day, on the same old dirt lane, next to the same old apple orchard all under the same old sky under the drifting clouds.
There was even the same old stand that got put out at around harvest time, stocked with the same red apples that grew year in and year out next to the same old sign and chipped cup offering them up for sale. Three for the price of one of those ‘soda pops’ that were all the rage.
The family that ran this orchard had set aside a small portion of their stock every growing season for travelers for years, perhaps for centuries if the stories you’d heard passed down of this field being around back in the times when humans wore metal armor and fought much as a Sirfetch’d might with sword and shield were to be believed. It was a simple enough process, take a piece of the hoard of apples set out, add a piece to the hoard of coins in the cup. A gesture of goodwill and trust to those passers-by.
“Oi, look, there’s free food just lying around there.”
Except, every year, there were always a handful of travelers that would abuse that trust, including the pair of louts in black with ridiculous pink hair and face paint that you could see from your hiding place: a stocky young man, and a gangly girl. That’s why you were there: to serve as the trusted guardian of the little hoard of fruit and coins. The pair hadn’t noticed you yet, and you kept a careful, watchful eye over them as the man reached for one of the apples and bit into it much to his partner’s skepticism.
Your mentor had told you stories of how sometimes it was best to take a gentler approach with ones who would abuse the trust of the orchard. When they were needy or desperate, or when they’d failed to read the sign. Circumstances that merited a patient warning, or sometimes a blind eye in understanding.
“Aren’t you supposed to pay for that first, bruv?”
“I don’t see anyone actually bothering to sell them. And someone just left this money lying around! Finders keepers!”
Though from the way that the man was reaching for the coin-hoard in the cup, a gentle approach would clearly not do. You uncoiled yourself from your hiding place, a larger apple hiding in plain sight on the top of the stand, and stretched your neck out to telegraph your warning.
“Wait, why does it suddenly smell like flowers right now?”
The humans turned and looked up at you, with your disguise revealed, you uncoiled your body and spread your wings with the fiercest roar you could muster…
Judging from the look on the man’s face, you still needed to work a bit on making it sound threatening.
“Ah, it’s just a Flapple,” he scoffed. “What, come here to help yourself to some apples, too?”
You narrowed your eyes and felt bile built up at the back of your throat after seeing the man pick up the cup. You’d given him fair warning, now it was time to show this would-be thief that you meant business. You spat up a spray of fluid at his coat, which made a sizzling noise as it bubbled up from acid eating away at it as the humans’ eyes shot wide.
“Ack! Blimey!”
“I told you you were supposed to pay for that!” the woman cried. “Let’s get out of here!”
The man hurriedly threw aside his jacket as your acid bored holes into it and the pair took off running down the path, the man dropping his purloined apple along the way. Good riddance, really. You righted the cup and the coin-hoard, carefully returning the loose coins that came out. Then you turned your attention to the jacket and tugged at it to move it off the path. No sense in scaring away other travelers with it. You bit down on a corner and tugged it away onto the other side of the road, when you heard a jingling noise. A quick search of a pocket revealed some coins in it. Enough to have bought at least three of the stand’s apples had the man just been honest.
You took the coins and added them to the cup, before taking the bitten apple and returning to your perch. For whatever reason, humans would turn up perfectly good apples even after a little bite, but that was hardly a loss for you.
It was back to the same old quiet, watching over the same old stand on the same old lane outside of Turffield. Except now you had a snack as you waited for the next travelers to come by.
Finding hunting grounds was a challenge for any dragon, and especially so for hydreigon. Long ago, the gods gave your kind the power to make the world tremble, but that power had its price: three-heads, ever hungry. As such, Hydreigon had to have a nose for finding grounds that would sate that hunger, even if it meant looking in unlikely places.
You remembered when you first heard the rumors, of untouched hunting grounds south and west of the shrines to the great dragons. Grounds where prey were plentiful in number and grew fat and sleek from verdant fields. You can see them now as clear as day through three sets of eyes
You look down at the silhouette of your wings over the treetops to make sure that you’re not dreaming: green, rolling plains just beyond the forest. And milling about on top of it, a veritable sea of bleating, yellow wool.
“So the stories really are true…”
Your stomach growls at the sight and your mouths begin to water. Somehow, such rich hunting grounds had gone unclaimed all this time. All yours for the taking. And to think that your peers opted to squabble over competing claims in the mountains for prey that could slip away into caves and crags at a moment’s notice!
… Though perhaps things weren’t so black-and-white. These fields were supposed to be tended to by humans, you had been warned when you were younger not to hunt in such places. When you questioned why, you were told that as balance to the toll of tooth and claw the gods allowed Pokémon to take on humans that interfered in their affairs, that the gods also saw it fit to allow humans to similarly punish Pokémon that did likewise to theirs… and of those of the Pokémon that made cause with them. Which those Mareep almost certainly have done.
But they are humans, and you are a Hydreigon. They are said to quake in fear at the sight of your kind, even the ones who left the wild to den among them. Your kind by contrast, has stories in both your and their folklore of your kind’s mightier individuals laying waste to their villages.
But there is no need for things to come to that today: you didn’t come to hunt humans, so your quarrel isn’t with them anyways. If they wished to make it so for the sake of a few unwary Mareep… well, you’ll believe they can win that battle when they emerge from hiding from their dens and challenge you themselves. You are the Hydreigon, after all. They are the weak creatures dependent on hiding behind the strength of others.
You bank in the air along the edge of the forest and swoop lower, glancing over your shoulders to make sure another dragon hasn’t tailed you. The skies are clear but for clouds, and it’s all the encouragement you need to dive out towards the flock of Mareep in the fields, building up bluish, fiery light in your mouths.
A few of the Mareep spot you and freeze, frantically bleating out warnings to their fellows, but it is too late. You spit up a Dragon Pulse, and then another, and another. Three Mareep crumple to the ground, singed with might of your dragonfire. Their peers break away in a panic, but that is just fine by you. Your have already felled your prey before they knew what hit them. When you finish them off, you will be rewarded with a fill of succulent and still-tender meat. The just reward the gods are said to give to hunters that do not revel not in the fear and pain of their prey and quickly finish them off.
A quick swoop down and you are there to seize one of the felled Mareep with your leftmost head, biting down into her wool. You feel a feeble pulse in your jaws, but with the condition she is in, you doubt the sheep will wake up before you can carry her off and dispatch her in a quieter place away from your foes’ grasp.
You hastily flap your wings and make your way over to the second and do the same with the rightmost head as a few electric bolts sail in. The Mareep are attempting to close ranks to aid their fallen comrades. But those attacks are from Mareep, while you are a Hydreigon, and they bounce off your hide like little pricks from a Combee. Perhaps less so, since Combee pricks can be surprisingly painful sometimes.
A bellowing roar turns back a good number of the sheep in a panic and a few wingbeats later, you make your way to the third Mareep and open the jaws on your central head. This one wakes up as you approach and flinches with a low whimper after he sees you.
“I suppose my luck was bound to run out,” you grumble to yourself. This Mareep’s fear will make his meat tough and stringy compared to the other two. Perhaps you’ll eat him first to just get it over with so your meal will end on a less disappointing note.
You bare your fangs and prepare to bite down and fly off, when a blinding flash sails in and numb warmth courses through your body. You lose your grip on the other two Mareep and fall back with a pained bellow. You beat your wings and even your body out, turning your heads to see the rest of the Mareep pulling your prey away from your grasp and an Ampharos approaching with a piercing glare, sparks still dancing on his hide.
“You should know better than to prey on Pokémon that trade life under the wild’s rhythms for those set by humans. Especially ones that have done you no wrong,” the ram bleats. “The gods do not smile on Pokémon that would harm them like this.”
You blink incredulously at the Ampharos, before flitting back and coiling your necks. It occurs to you that he would be much bigger and more filling quarry. And without any hint of fear about him, the meat from his body would surely be more pleasing to consume. Even so, the ram struck you harder than you expected, and harder than you’d care to let him know. So you bare your fangs back and unfurl your six wings to their full span, snarling to remind this interloper that you are a Hydreigon, while he is a mere Ampharos.
“I think that I’m more familiar with the ways of the gods than a human pet,” you sneer. “And what do you think a mere grazer like you can do to me?”
The Ampharos narrows his eyes, letting static crackle on his body before he glares daggers at you and speaks in a calm, unfazed tone.
“Kill you. With the very power that you wield as your own,” he answers. “We Ampharos have the strength of dragons coursing through our veins, and as the Lead Ram of the Floccesy Ranch Flock, I have come far along enough to be able to use it.”
At this, you burst into laughter, struggling with all your might not to fall out of the air and bowl over onto the grass. This Ampharos… the creature that should be quailing in his tracks and begging for his life right now, is threatening you? You’d heard that being in the care of humans went to the heads of some Pokémon, but this was just too much.
Just then, a weak jolt of electricity courses through your body and you stop laughing as your limbs lock up and grow stiff. Your eyes widen briefly, but you recompose yourself and turn with a snarl. After all, you are the Hydreigon, and he is a mere Ampharos. Your kind eats Pokémon stronger than him on a regular basis.
“Burn!”
You disgorge a blue pulse of dragonfire, which makes the Ampharos stagger back much to your satisfaction. You let out a bellowing roar and fight against your stiff wings to fly at the ram as smoke swirls, opening your jaws wide to tear into him. It is then that the smoke clears and much to your alarm, the Ampharos is still standing, with an orb of bluish dragonfire in his mouth.
A sharp yelp comes from your throats, one that catches you off-guard with how much it sounds like the frightened bleating of the Mareep from earlier. Something that you will make a point of never telling another soul about in your life. You hurriedly try to pull up, when burning pain shoots through your belly. The world spins about you as you lose altitude and crash onto your side on the ground with a loud thud.
You lie there in a daze briefly as you struggle to make out swirling colors and shapes that won’t stay still. H-How on earth had this happened? You are the Hydreigon, he is the Ampharos! Th-This was completely backwards from how things were supposed to go!
You yelp after a sharp kick strikes your stomach and rolls you over onto your back. Something presses down on your central throat and you start to have trouble breathing through it. You look up, and there is the Ampharos standing over you, static dancing on his hide. Your ears pick up bleating jeers from all around you, as the Mareep aren’t afraid of you anymore and are eager to make sure you know it.
This is it. You’re going to die here. You want to face the end with bravery and dignity, like a dragon is supposed to in such situations, defiant even against the final blow. Contrary to all your expectations, the Ampharos has emerged the victor from your struggle after all, and you know he has every right to claim you.
… It proves harder than you thought, and waiting for death is a more frightening experience than you expected. You screw all six of your eyes shut as a shiver runs down your body. Things begin to grow a bit hazy, and while you’ll never admit it if you somehow survive this, but you’re pretty sure you’re whimpering right now. It’s lower and rougher, but it’s not wholly unlike the sounds the last Mareep from earlier was making after he came to.
But the killing blow doesn’t come. You still hear the Mareep’s bleating all around you, and you still feel the aching pains wracking your body, so you’re not dead yet. You crack your eyes open warily, and see the Ampharos’ foot still on your central throat. The static has died down on his hide, and in its place, he looks down at you with a piercing glare.
“I would just like to remind you that I warned you this would happen,” the Ampharos huffed. “Fortunately for you, we ‘pets’ don’t live by the rules you do in the wild and there is no blood to be avenged. Go and hunt elsewhere.”
The Ampharos lets his foot off your throat. You roll over onto your stomach and wheeze for air out of fright. You had no idea that Ampharos could become this fierce, this powerful. You look back at the sheep, who is beginning to have impatient sparks dance on his hide again.
“And don’t come back here,” he warns you. “If I see you in these fields a second time, I’ll see to it that you won’t live to tell others about losing twice to an old ram.”
There is nothing left to be said between you two. You yelp and scrabble onto your stubby legs. After pitching startledly to the ground from a failed attempt at taking off, you leap into the air and fly off as fast as your wings and your wounds from battle will let you.
Somewhere south and west of the shrines to the great dragons, there are untouched hunting grounds where prey are plentiful in number and grow fat and sleek in verdant fields. Someday, a dragon with great strength might claim it for his own.
But that dragon is not you. You’re not going to tempt fate and you’re going to put a healthy distance between you and that accursed Ampharos. There was a lake you spotted north of here about fifteen minutes ago by flying: you’re going to go there, lick your wounds, and try your luck fishing for Basculin.
Original Drabble
Charizard
Cute but Ferocious
Flapple
Dragons' Lineage
Goomy
A Dragon Someday
Ekans
Flightless
Exeggutor
Finding hunting grounds was a challenge for any dragon, especially one with an appetite as big as yours. Though that came with the territory of being a Pokémon of your kind, the gods had given you the strength to make the world tremble, at the cost of it needing to be ever fed. You remembered when you first heard the rumors, of untouched hunting grounds south and west of the shrines to the great dragons, where prey were plentiful in number and grew fat and sleek from verdant fields.
You could see it as clear as day through three sets of eyes, and you still found yourself looking down at the ground at the silhouette of your wings over the treetops to make sure that you weren’t dreaming: a verdant, rolling field just beyond the forest, with a veritable sea of bleating, yellow wool.
“So the stories really are true…”
You heard your stomach growl at the sight and felt your mouth began to water. Somehow, such rich grounds had gone unclaimed all this time. All yours for the taking. To think that all this time your peers opted to squabble over competing claims in the mountains instead.
… Perhaps things weren’t so black-and-white. These fields are supposed to be tended by humans, and it is said that as balance to the toll of tooth and claw the gods allow Pokémon to take upon humans that interfere in the affairs of Pokémon, that they saw it fit that Pokémon that interfered with the affairs of humans would be similarly punished.
But they are humans, and you are a Hydreigon. They are said to quake in fear at the sight of those of your kind who den among them. As they should, since your kind's mighty ones have stories in folklore of laying waste to their villages. Your quarrel isn’t with them anyways, and if they wish to make it so… well, you’ll believe they can win it when they emerge from hiding from their dens to challenge you. You are the Hydreigon, after all. They are the weak creatures dependent on the strength of others to stand up to Pokémon.
You bank in the air and dive towards the flock of Mareep below, building up bluish light in your mouths. A few of the Mareep turn and bleat out warning, but it is too late. You spit up a Dragon Pulse, and then another, and another. Three Mareep crumple to the ground, singed with bluish dragonfire. Their peers break away in a panic, but that is just fine by you. Your prey has already been felled before they knew what hit them. When you finish them off, you will be rewarded with your fill of succulent and still-tender meat, as the gods are said reward to hunters that hastily dispatch their prey and revel not in their fear and pain.
A quick swoop down and you are there to seize one of the Mareep with your leftmost head, biting down into its wool. You feel a feeble pulse in your jaws, but with the condition it is in, you doubt the sheep will wake up before you can carry it off and dispatch it. You hastily flap your wings to make your way over to the second and do the same with the rightmost as a few electric bolts sail in. But they are from Mareep, while you are a Hydreigon, and they bounce like little pricks off your hide from a Combee. Perhaps less so, since Combee pricks can be surprisingly painful. A few wingbeats later, and you make your way to the third Mareep and open the jaws on your central head. This one wakes up as you approach and flinches with a low whimper.
“I suppose my luck was bound to run out at some point,” you grumble to yourself. After all, this Mareep’s fear will make his meat tough and stringy compared to the other two. Perhaps you’ll eat him first to just get it over with.
You bare your fangs and prepare to sink in, when a blinding flash sails in and you feel numb warmth course through your body. You lose your grip on the other Mareep and fall back with a pained bellow, turning your heads to see an Ampharos approaching with a piercing glare, sparks still dancing on his hide.
“You should know better than to prey on Pokémon in the care of humans,” the ram bleats. “The gods do not smile on Pokémon that would harm them like this.”
You blink incredulously at the Ampharos, before flitting back and tensing your heads. It occurs to you that he would be much bigger and more filling quarry, and without any hint of fear about him, the meat from his body would surely be more pleasing to consume. Even so, the sheep struck you harder than you expect, and harder than you’d care to let him know. So you bare your fangs back, unfurl your six wings to their full span, and snarl to try and remind this interloper that you are a Hydreigon, while he is a mere Ampharos.
“I think that I am more familiar with the ways of the gods than a human pet,” you sneer. “And what do you think a mere grazer like you can do to me?”
The Ampharos narrows his eyes, before letting static dance on his hide before narrowing his eyes at you and speaking in a calm, unfazed tone.
“Kill you. With the very power that you wield as your own,” he answers. “We Ampharos have the strength of dragons coursing through our veins, and as the Lead Ram of the Floccesy Ranch flock, I have come far along enough to be able to use it.”
At this, you burst into laughter, struggling with all your might not to fall out of the air and bowl over onto the grass. This Ampharos… the creature that should be quailing in his tracks and begging for mercy right now, is threatening you? You’d heard that being in the care of humans went to the heads of some Pokémon, but this was just too much.
Just then, a weak jolt of electricity courses through your body and you stop laughing as you feel your limbs lock up and grow stiff. Your eyes widen briefly, but you recompose yourself and turn with a snarl. After all, you are the Hydreigon, and he is a mere Ampharos. Your kind eats stronger Pokémon than him on a regular basis.
“Eat this!”
You disgorge a blue pulse of dragonfire, which makes the Ampharos stagger back much to your satisfaction. You let out a bellowing roar and fight against your stiff wings to fly at the ram as smoke swirls, cracking your jaws open to tear into him. It is then that the smoke clears and much to your alarm, you see the Ampharos still standing, with an orb of bluish dragonfire in his mouth.
The next thing you hear is a noise coming from your throats that is closer to the sound of the frightened bleats of the Mareep from earlier than you will ever tell anyone else in your life. You hurriedly try to pull up, when you feel burning pain strike you in your belly. The world spins about you as you crash onto your side on the ground.
You lie there in a daze briefly. H-How on earth this all happened? You are the Hydreigon, he is the Ampharos! Th-This was completely backwards from how things were supposed to go!
You yelp after you feel a kick on your stomach and roll over onto your back. You feel something press down on your central throat and hear bleating jeers from all around you. This is it. You’re going to die here. You try to be brave and face the end with dignity as contrary to all your expectations, the Ampharos has emerged the victor, and brace for the final blow.
It is harder than you thought, and waiting for death is a more frightening experience than you expected. You screw all six of your eyes shut and feel a shiver run down your body. While you’ll never admit it, you may or may not have also made a few noises not wholly unlike the ones that the last Mareep from earlier did after coming to. But you can still hear the Mareep bleating all around you, and you still feel the aching pains wracking your body, so you’re not dead yet. You crack your eyes warily, and see the Ampharos’ foot on your central throat, its owner looking down at you with a piercing glare.
“I would just like to remind you that I warned you this would happen,” the Ampharos huffed. “Fortunately for you, there is no blood to be avenged, and we ‘pets’ don’t live by the rules of the wild. Go and hunt elsewhere.”
The Ampharos lets his foot off your throat. You roll over onto your stomach and pant for air out of fright. You had know idea that Ampharos could become this fierce, this powerful. You look back at the sheep, who is beginning to have impatient sparks dance on his hide.
“And don’t come back here again,” he warns. “If I see you in these fields again, I’ll see to it that you won’t live to tell others about losing a second time to an old ram.”
There is nothing left to be said between you two. You yelp and scrabble onto your stubby legs and after pitching startledly to the ground from a failed attempt at taking off, leap into the air and fly off as fast as your wings and your battle fatigue will let you.
Somewhere south and west of the shrines to the great dragons, are untouched hunting grounds where prey are plentiful in number and grow fat and sleek from verdant fields. Someday, a dragon with great strength might claim it for his own.
But that dragon is not you. You’re not going to tempt fate and going to put a healthy distance between you and that accursed Ampharos. There was a lake you spotted about fifteen minutes northward during your flight, you’re going to go there, lick your wounds, and try your luck fishing for Basculin.
For a Pokémon, dwelling among humans comes full of quirks and oddities, and it’s rife with occasions you’d never encounter while living in the wild. The humans have their orbs with simulated habitats that carry Pokémon both great and small in them. They bring in a variety of contraptions that they use to carry themselves around or keep their dens lit and warm regardless of the time of day or the season—including the one you’re in now. And of course, they have access to medicines and machines that allow Pokémon to recover from wounds that would be mortal in the wild.
But the human oddity that holds your attention most right now is a cylinder sitting on the tiled floor of the hallway of the human den you’re in. The cylinder looks much like a light-creating contraption humans call a “lantern”, but this one has a purple and yellow egg resting inside of it behind a layer of clear glass. If you hold your head in front of it right, you can even see your reflection in it. Your white and blue scales along your serpentine body, the blue orb on your neck, and the pair of wings on the sides of your head.
“Are you sure this will work out?”
The hissing voice that reaches your ears and prompt you to give a quick turn of your head to your left, reveals an Arbok staring worriedly down at you, giving an unconscious waggle of her tail back and forth. Your mate... and your partner, as the two of you are both trained under the same human.
She glimpses briefly at the egg in the contraption—an “incubator”, you’ve heard it called—and flicks her tongue briefly before looking away from you with a low sigh.
“My kind doesn’t normally rear children for long,” she says. “No longer than it takes for them to slither off into the grass,” she continues, turning aside with a hint of hesitation. “I’m… not sure what I’d be able to offer our child when I don’t know the first thing about watching over one.”
You flatten out your head-wings and suck in a sharp breath. If you were still back in the wilds, you would never hear the end of this from your peers. They’d have no shortage of words to say about how you chose a mate who by nature wasn’t used to staying and nurturing her child. About how you sired a child who would never be able to fly alongside you; nor to fight as you could, for they would never wield your dragonfire. One who would draw mockery and laughter from dragonkind were he or she to claim the title of ‘dragon’.
You shake your head to try and dismiss those thoughts. Why were you dwelling on them anyways? You’d come to live with humans precisely because those other dragons didn’t lend you aid at a time of need in the wild. Because none showed up when you were swept onto sharp rocks by a rogue wave when you were still a Dratini, and were left with deep wounds from it. Wounds that kept you from moving about in the water properly and made you gravely ill after they grew infected. If you hadn’t been discovered on that beach by humans all those years ago, you likely never would’ve lived long enough to worry about a child at all.
She’d even given you a chance to return back to the wild after evolution wiped those wounds away… and you’d turned the chance down, because you’d made friends with the other Pokémon that traveled with the humans you came to know.
Including the Arbok with whom you’d sired the egg in the incubator you’re staring at right now. Your whole life has been marked by taking chances and making choices that aren’t possible for you in nature. Why should that change now?
“We aren’t living like that,” you insist. “There’s room for us to try things differently.”
A crack sounds out, as a fissure runs down the length of the shell and violet scales nose at it from underneath. The Arbok sets her teeth on edge and looks around worriedly.
“Of all the times for Belinda not to be here,” she murmurs.
You’re a bit nervous yourself, and you find yourself sharing your mate’s wish that your trainer were present at the moment. But she won’t be back to this den for a few hours still, and you’re pretty sure that in this case, you’ve learned enough from her in order to get by at the moment.
“It’s alright,” you insist. “I think that I can get the machine open.”
You nose at the plastic covering over the front of the incubator and after a few fumbling noses at it, it slides open—just in time for the egg to split and the form of a young Ekans to emerge with a few tired groans. This is your child who you’ve been waiting for all these weeks. It takes a while before you can spot the appropriate patch of scales that lets you know for certain, but this is her.
You pause and your heart swells for a moment as you lower your snout at the young serpent. She abruptly coils up, and then shrinks back with a sharp rattle of her tail that makes you hesitate.
Are you scaring her? You hesitate and try to pin the wings on your head back to make yourself look smaller and less imposing.
“H-Hi there,” you stammer. “I… I know that I probably look different than what you’re expecting, but I’m your-”
You don’t get to finish your words before you hear a startled hiss. Before you know it, you feel is a heavy smack at your snout from a lunging tackle, followed by the stabbing pain of fangs sinking into it.
“Agh!”
You lurch backwards from the incubator and fight every bone in your body to not thrash about. A quick glance down your snout reveals your child dangling from your snout, her top fangs sinking into them past your scales. Your mate slithers over and hurriedly nuzzles at the Ekans, speaking in a soothing tone with a soft hiss.
“Easy! Easy, little one! There’s nothing to worry about! That’s your father!”
You wince a little as you feel a weight let go of your snout. Your child hits the floor and slithers behind the Arbok.
You nose at your wounded snout, and brush away a couple droplets of blood against your scales. It occurs to you that you’re still feeling healthy at the moment. Guess your mate’s reassurances that her kind starts their lives without poison weren’t just empty words. You turn back to your mate, and see your child craning her head out warily from behind her mother to look at you.
“Da-a da?”
It will take some weeks before your child’s grasp of her voice’s rhythm and tone begins to allow her to speak coherently, and you’re not sure whether or not her letting go of you was a fluke or not. You see your mate nose at her to try and calm her down, as your eyes begin to drift towards the floor of the human den.
You start to get doubts again. Over whether this was a good idea. Over whether this will even work. Sure, Belinda will be there to help care for your child as your trainer, but with how different you and your mate are, will your child love you the way you want to love her back?
“Dada.”
You feel scales brush up against yours, and look to see your child has come up to you and begin curling around your body. Or she’s trying to, at least. Your worries and fears ebb away then, as you resolve that whatever the future holds for your family, that you’ll work things out.
“Y-Yeah, th-that’s me. Dada. You- You kinda gave me a scare there.”
You nose at your child and she noses back at you. You don’t know whether or not she will ever be able to call herself ‘dragon’. Or whether she’ll ever be able to share any of your ways. But right then, right there, you are convinced that in all the ways that matter, that she is just like you.
Original Drabble:
Charizard
Cute but Ferocious
Flapple
Dragons' Lineage
Goomy
A Dragon Someday
Ekans
Flightless
Exeggutor
Life with humans is full of quirks and oddities, where Pokémon come across things they would never encounter while living outside their care in the wild. There are the orbs with simulated habitats that carry Pokémon both great and small in them. Healing medicines and machines that allow Pokémon to recover from wounds that would be the end of a Pokémon in the wild.
But right now, the oddity that holds your attention right now is a cylinder that looks much like a lantern, with a purple and yellow egg resting inside of it. If you hold your head right, you can see your reflection in it. Your white and blue scales along your serpentine body, the blue orb on your neck, and the pair of wings on the sides of your head.
“Are you sure this will work out?”
And a quick turn of your head reveals an Arbok staring worriedly down at you. A partner of yours that shares a human. And… your mate.
“My kind doesn’t normally rear children for much longer than it takes for them to slither off into the grass,” she sighs, looking away. “I’m… not sure what I’d be able to offer our child when I don’t know the first thing about watching over one.”
You flatten out your wings and bite your tongue. You would certainly never hear the end of this were you back in the wilds, of how you chose a mate who by nature wasn’t used to staying and nurturing her child. To sire a child that would never be able to fly alongside you. Would never be able to fight as you could. That would never wield your dragonfire. That would draw mockery and laughter were he or she to claim the title of ‘dragon’.
… Why were you dwelling on this anyways? You’d come to live with humans precisely because those other dragons didn’t lend you aid. Because you’d been discovered injured along a beach as a Dratini with wounds that kept you from moving about in the water properly. You had been given a chance to return back to the wild after evolution wiped those wounds away… and you’d turned it down, because you’d made friends with the other Pokémon that traveled with your trainers.
Including the one you’d had the egg you were staring at in the incubator right now with. Your whole life has been taking chances and making choices that weren’t possible for you in nature. Why should that change now?”
“We aren’t living like that,” you insist. “There’s room for us to try things differently.”
A crack sounds out, as you see a fissure run down the length of the shell and violet scales nose at it from underneath. The Arbok sets her teeth on edge and looks around worriedly.
“Of all the times for Belinda not to be here,” she murmurs.
“It’s alright,” you insist. “I think that I can get the machine open.”
You nose at the plastic covering over the front of the incubator and after a few fumbling noses it slides open, just in time for the egg to split and the form of a young Ekans to emerge with a few tired groans. This is your child who you’ve been waiting for all these weeks. It takes a while before you can spot the appropriate patch of scales, but this is her.
You pause and feel your heart well for a moment, as you lower your snout at the young serpent, who shrinks back at first with a nervous rattle of her tail. Are you scaring her? You hesitate and try to pin the wings on your head back to make yourself look smaller.
“H-Hi there,” you stammer. “I… I know that I probably look different than what you’re expecting, but I’m your-”
The next thing you feel is a heavy smack at your snout from a lunging tackle, followed by fangs sinking into your snout.
“Agh!”
You lurch back, and fight every bone in your body to not thrash about. Your mate hurries over, and hurriedly nuzzles at the Ekans, speaking in a soothing tone with a soft hiss.
“Easy! Easy, little one! There’s nothing to worry about! That’s your father!”
It will take some weeks before your child begins to speak coherently, but even so, she lets go and slithers behind the Arbok, craning her head out warily.
“Da- Da da?”
You nose at your wounded snout, and brush away a couple droplets of blood. It occurs to you that you’re still feeling healthy at the moment. Guess your mate’s reassurances that her kind starts their lives without poison weren’t just empty words.
You start to get doubts again. Over whether this was a good idea. Over whether this will even work. Sure, Belinda will be there to help care for your child, but with how different you two are, will she love you the way you want to love her back?
“Da da.”
You feel scales brush up against yours, and look to see your child curling around your body. Or trying to, at least. Your worries and fears ebb away then, as you resolve that whatever the future holds, that you’ll work things out.
“Y-Yeah, th-that’s me. Da da. You- You kinda gave me a scare there.”
You don’t know whether or not your child will ever be able to call herself ‘dragon’. Or whether or not she’ll be able to share any of your ways. But right then, right there, you are convinced that in all the ways that matter, that she is just like you.
You keep your body close to the ground under the shade of a canopy of leaves overhead. A large bush that you might have been happy to gorge on in better times, when the dark was there to disguise you and the rain was there to aid your movements. But as the heat in the air and the rays of sunlight trickling in through the gaps between the leaves reminds you, now isn’t that time, and you don’t dare budge in your hiding place.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to have gone foraging while the nightly rains made it easier for you to move about. You were supposed to have eaten your fill of leaves and berries hours ago, and then gone back to your hiding place to rest alongside your peers.
But then you ran into that Serperior on the prowl and you were forced to hide in these bushes. You’d tried to keep an eye out for a chance to sneak past the fearsome serpent, but you were lethargic from not having had the chance to eat beforehand. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, the rains stopped and the sun began to peek over the horizon.
For some Pokémon, the night was dark and full of terrors. But with your slow gait and your frail body, damp darkness was your ally. The beating sun had long dried up that dampness outside, and it won’t be until about midday until light rains come again to the island that you live on and make moving around easier again.
Or at least easy enough to try and sneak back to your den by going from bush to bush. You’d tried to stay alert and conserve your energy until that time came, but between your hunger and the daytime heat eating away at the damp layer of slime on your body, you kept having trouble staying awake.
Worse still, every now and then, your antennae would pick up movement from just outside the bush you were hiding in, like the heavy footsteps you sense passing by you right now. Just as in those prior occasions, you keep still and try to tell yourself that whatever is on the other end hasn’t seen you. That if you just stay quiet, you can hold on and inch away back to safety. But it was your evolution that had mucus that would burn to the touch. If whatever found you set upon you…
You try not to think too hard about it. Suffice to say, you don’t have such natural defenses just yet, and you’re stuck here waiting and trying to remain still and quiet like your life depends on it.
Because in all likelihood, it does.
Except, this time the footsteps return. Your small eyes shrink to pins and you desperately hold your breath, when the bush around you erupts with activity. A pair of gray, chitinous horns slice through the foliage right above you, just barely missing your antennae.
You scream, and spit up a stream of blue dragonfire at your attacker before you break from the bush and slime ahead as fast as you can… which is probably pitifully slow in comparison to your attacker. You turn your eyes as much as you can and see your foe is a hulking, brown beetle, with barbed pincers at the top of his head and a mouth full of sharp, fang-like mandibles.
You remember there is a ledge just up ahead from your hiding place that goes down to the beach. Down to where humans sometimes come onto this island from the sea. If you can just make it there, maybe you can buy some time for the Pinsir to lose sight of you. Enough time for you to find another bush to hide in.
Except, the dew and nightly rains have long dried out. You hurriedly inch forward, contracting your foot as the edge comes into view. Any relief you have is swiftly quashed by the sound of an overpowering hiss. The Pinsir is behind you, coming at you lunging with his pincers, aiming to grasp you between them and finish you off. You flatten yourself against the ground as the pincers snap shut just overhead with a sharp clack and you throw yourself off the ledge.
You hit the grass below as the impact knocks the wind out of you. You lay there stunned for a moment and try to get up when you hear wings buzzing. You look behind you and see the Pinsir has followed you, evidently having seen your leap of faith this entire time. You let out a low whine as the beetle clicks his mandibles, and steel yourself for the end.
That is when you see a sudden shock of green and brown swoop down, trailing telltale flecks of fiery blue that looks just like your Dragon Breath. The blur crushes the Pinsir to the ground, before jerking back up high into the sky. You look as the Pinsir struggles against the ground in a daze, before he hurriedly scrabbles away and limps off into the brush.
Your breaths come tense and heavy as you look up, and see a towering tree above you. Or at least you think it is a tree until it turns and cranes downward. The things that look like coconuts at first glance turn out to be a trio of heads, and you freeze as they study you carefully.
“You look tired, young dragon,” the Exeggutor says. “Why do you move about in the sun in such a state?”
You breathe in and out sharply as you feel an overpowering urge to flee, when it occurs to you: this Exeggutor has saved your life. Even if he is tall and imposing, if he meant you harm, he’d have done so by now.
The least you can do as a thanks is to give him an answer in reply.
“Because I was stranded while I was foraging for food,” you explain. “And I was set upon by my enemies while I was weak and vulnerable.”
The Exeggutor stares at you for a quiet moment, before shaking his leafy heads. The great dragon cracks a trio of small smiles and rumbles in reassurance.
“It won’t be much longer until the daytime rains, little one. This is where I normally sun myself before they come. Won’t you stay and rest a while?” the tree-creature asks. “As one dragon to another, I can lend a helping frond this once.”
You’re still in disbelief over everything that has happened. But you need a shaded place to rest, and no bush on this island carries the sort of power your unexpected guardian just wielded.
And so, even if part of you is still wary, even if it is still afraid. Your words wind up leaving your mouth without you thinking.
“Of-Of course.”
The tree-dragon rears back up, his head stretching high up into the sky where the birds might fly as shade falls on the grass around you. Exhausted, you inch forward and flatten yourself against it near the Exeggutor’s legs, closing your eyes as sleep claims you.
You wake up to the patter of rain against your body. You yawn and turn your eyes skyward, finding the Exeggutor turning to glance you over before he cranes his head down to speak.
“I’m afraid this is where we must part ways,” he says. “My rhythms call me to the west of the island for when the rain parts for the afternoon sun. And yours…”
The Exeggutor motions off inland, where you see your fellows inching along. Goomy and Sliggoo, making their way down from the hilltop to forage. Your eyes brighten from the sight and you start to set off, only to catch yourself as you turn back to the great tree dragon towering up into the skies above.
“I don’t know how I can ever repay you,” you murmur.
“Be careful and patient, young dragon,” he answers. “If the fates smile upon you, you too will grow strong and tall one day. Knowing that you’ll use it to help another dragon small in stature just as another did for me when I was once small and weak is thanks enough.”
You don’t know if that day will ever come. Especially since you’re sure you’ve never heard of your kind growing tall enough to tower into the sky like this Exeggutor. But you give the dragon your word and begin to slime off, calling out to your peers in the distance.
You’ll have quite the story to tell them after you’ve eaten your fill and finally make your way back home. Of how a fellow dragon saved your life, one taller and stronger than you could’ve ever imagined.
Original Drabble:
Charizard
Cute but Ferocious
Flapple
Dragons' Lineage
Goomy
A Dragon Someday
Ekans
Flightless
Exeggutor
This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to have gone foraging while the nightly rains made it easier to move about. To eat your fill of leaves and berries and go back to your hiding place to rest.
And then you ran into the Serperior, and were forced into hiding in these bushes. You’d tried to keep an eye out for a chance to sneak past it, but you hadn’t had the chance to eat beforehand, and before you knew it, the rains stopped and the sun began to peek over the horizon.
For some Pokémon, the night was dark and full of terrors. But with your slow gait and your frail body, damp darkness was your ally. The beating sun had long dried up that dampness, and it wouldn’t be until about midday until light rains came again to the island that would make movement easier. At least enough to try and sneak back to your den going from bush to bush. You’d tried to rest and conserve your energy until then, but between your hunger, the daytime heat eating away at the damp layer of slime on your body, you kept having trouble dozing off.
And every now and then, your antennae would pick up movement from just outside your bush, like the heavy footsteps you were sensing passing by you. You’d keep still and try to tell yourself that whatever was on the other end hadn’t seen you, that if you’d just stay quiet, you could hold on, and inch away back to safety. But it was your evolution that had the mucous that would burn to the touch. You were stuck here waiting and trying to remain still and quiet.
Except, the footsteps returned this time. Your small eyes shrank to pins and you desperately held your breath, when the bush erupted with activity. A pair of gray, chitinous horns sliced through the foliage just above you, just missing your antennae.
You screamed. And spat up a stream of blue dragonfire at your attacker before you broke from the bush and slimed ahead as fast as you could… which wasn’t all that fast in the grand scheme of things. You turned eyes as much as you could and saw your attacker was a hulking, brown beetle, with barbed pincers at the top of its head and a mouth full of sharp, fang-like mandibles.
There was a ledge just up ahead that went down to the beach. Down to where humans sometimes came and went on this island. If you could just make it there, maybe you could buy some time for the Pinsir to lose sight of you. To find another bush to hide in.
Except, the dew and nightly rains were long dried out. You hurriedly inched forward, contracting your foot as the Pinsir came at you when he lunged with his pincers. To grasp you and finish you off. You flattened yourself against the ground as the pincers closed just overhead with a sharp clack and you threw yourself off the ledge and hit the grass below.
You lay there stunned for a moment and tried to get up when you heard wings buzzing. You looked behind you and saw the Pinsir had followed you, evidently having seen you and your leap of faith this entire time. You let out a low whine as the beetle clicked his mandibles, bracing yourself for the end.
That was when you saw a sudden shock of green and brown, trailing telltale flecks of blue like your Dragon Breath barrel in. The blur crushed the Pinsir to the ground, before jerking back up high into the sky. You looked as the Pinsir struggled against the ground in a daze, before hurriedly scrabbling away and limping off into the brush.
Your breaths came tense and heavy as you looked up, and saw a towering tree above you. Or at least you thought it was a tree, until you saw it turn and crane down. The things you thought were coconuts turned out to be a trio of heads, and you froze as they studied you carefully.
“You look tired, young dragon,” the Exeggutor said. “Why do you move about in the sun in such a state?”
“Because I was stranded while I was foraging,” you explain. “And I was set upon by my enemies while I was weak and vulnerable.”
The Exeggutor stared at you for a quiet moment, before shaking his leafy head. The great dragon cracked a trio of small smiles, as he rumbled in reassurance.
“The daytime rains won’t be much longer. This is where I normally sun myself before they come. Won’t you stay and rest a while?” the tree-creature asked. “As one dragon to another, I can lend a helping frond this once.”
“Of- Of course.”
The tree-dragon reared back up, his head stretching high up into the sky where the birds might fly as shade fell on the grass below. Exhausted, you inched forward, and flattened yourself against the ground, your eyes closing as sleep claimed you.
When you woke up, you felt the patter of rain against your body and awakened to find the Exeggutor turning to look over you before craning his head down to you.
“I’m afraid this is where we must part ways,” he said. “My rhythms call me to the west of the island for when the rain parts for the afternoon sun. And yours…”
The Exeggutor motioned off ahead, where you saw your fellows inching along. Goomy and Sliggoo, making their way down from the hilltop to forage. You set off, before turning back to the great tree dragon that towered over you and gave thanks.
You would have quite the story to tell your peers after you’d eaten your fill and finally made your way back home. Of how a fellow dragon saved your life, one taller and stronger than you could’ve ever imagined.
You crouch as you peek out from the bushes along the stone fence line, the salt tang in the air pricking your nostrils as you crouch and pull a set of sharp leaves on your arms taut into each other as blades. Humans call the place you’re in ‘Mossdeep City’, and you are in one of its neighborhoods somewhere in its northwest tip. Here, the houses are big with broad yards, ones that belong to humans with many treasures.
Treasures that you and your human partner used to ambush such humans for.
You paw at a small, black wristband hiked further up your right arm and ask yourself why you feel so nervous right now, when it occurs to you that if your partner was here, he’d pull you back into your Pokéball on the spot and give you an earful later. You don’t know what exactly he’d say, since your grasp of human language is still a bit shaky, but the gist of it would surely be that taking this sort of risk for a treasure was a terrible idea and that you were an idiot for even thinking about doing it.
Your partner instructed you in the past that it was not safe to go through houses such as these blindly. Many of them are watched by the likes of guarding Manectric, and others have eye-like machines hidden about which allow humans to see those who prowl about their territories and track them down later. It was better to snatch the things of the humans from these big houses while they were out and about in the busier parts of the city, where a human like your partner could lose a pursuer among the crowds as easily as you could among the treetops of a forest.
You look out from your hiding place and see a broad, green lawn—a rarity for houses outside this neighborhood. You start to feel your stomach knot up as you realize that all the tricks you and your partner used to use won’t work here. You’ll be completely in the open the moment you leave your bush, so it is imperative that you slip in and out unseen.
Your earlier plan had been to try and snatch your mark’s treasure back deeper in town, when you’d first seen this man and overheard him with some companions of his. You hadn’t made out all of his conversation, but he’d apparently found stones that made Pokémon stronger. You’d tailed him the entire way back on your own, occasionally stopping and pretending you were waiting for a trainer if passersby found your presence as an unattended Pokémon strange. It’d cost you an opening to make your move more than once already.
Now, your attention drifts back to the scene at the house where your mark is seated on patio furniture near an overlook of the sea: a white-haired man in a black suit… who is tending to a Metagross. You gulp and begin to understand why you haven’t seen any guards here. This human and just this companion of his alone are already strong enough to be their own guards, to say nothing about any others that might be hiding in those other Pokéballs on the holster around his waist.
You feel a cold shiver run down your spine and start to get second thoughts about this whole idea. Attempting direct battle with those two would be tantamount to suicide. You’d feel much more confident if your trainer were still here for you. If he were, he’d simply distract the man and his companion while you cut open the bag, snatched those stones within it, and ran off. He was always crafty with battle strategies, and were you caught, he could even potentially get you out of trouble by pretending you’d been misbehaving and feigning an apology.
Except, he isn’t here alongside you right now.
You glimpse back at the wristband on your arm. As the memories of your trainer locked up in that little silicone strip start to swirl about in your memory.
Your trainer was a kind human. He never treated you ill, and was always there to come to your side when you were hurt or frightened. He was a bit loud and brash, but you frankly preferred having a partner of that sort who wasn’t afraid to stir up trouble on behalf of his friends.
… Right, trouble. There certainly was no shortage of that when you two were together. Perhaps you should’ve suspected that something was wrong from the way you and him kept getting into fights with other humans, often over little trinkets or bits of paper and metal that humans value. Sure, as long as you were able to overpower their Pokémon, those fights usually came to an end quickly: after all, you were the one with Leaf Blades, and humans tended to lose their will to fight without a strong partner at their side.
But other times it had been you who lost the battle, even if you took it all in stride. It was thrilling, almost like hunting: but with key differences. Even if you failed, you’d get more second chances, and your human and you would be there to have each other’s backs.
… Until one night last year, when those second chances ran out. You’d ambushed your foes to snatch their belongings like many a time in the past, except partway through the battle, one of your usual enemies intervened, a human in a peaked cap with a Growlithe. You remember a flash of panic coming over your partner’s face, a gout of fire hitting yours that hurt more than you expected it to, and then everything going black when you hit the pavement.
You remember waking up afterwards on a bed in the backroom of a Pokécenter with your mouth muzzled, your ankles zip tied, and your wrists similarly bound behind your back. You panicked and called out for your trainer, expecting he’d be there to help you like he always was. He never came, and the Chansey on-staff told you not to expect him, and to not cause trouble since you were only allowed to be out of your Pokéball at that moment because your wounds needed overnight observation.
One thing led to another, and after wriggling the zip ties around your wrists loose enough, you cut your limbs loose and broke from your bedding to try to fight your way out of the room to freedom. That didn’t last terribly long since there was a human with a peaked cap waiting outside in the hall partnered with the biggest Arcanine you’d ever seen. Before you knew it, the fight was over, with you pinned to the ground on your stomach with a snarling mouth filled with sharp fangs hovering just overhead.
Things were kinda hazy after that moment. You remember curling up under the Arcanine’s grasp and sobbing and begging for him not to roast you before one of the Pokémon on staff hit you in the face with Sleep Powder. It’s probably for the best, since from what you can remember of that moment, you know it’s not one of your prouder ones.
When you came to again just before daybreak, you woke up with a fresh set of zip ties on your limbs, fastened tight enough to start digging into your scales, and saw the Arcanine and his trainer scowling at you at your bedside. You panicked at first, but gathered before long that at least you weren’t going to die. The way the Arcanine pointedly told you afterwards that if you’d caused further trouble, you’d have your arm leaves cut and either spend the rest of your observation period sedated and drooling into your bedding or be sent back to your Pokéball regardless of your wounds was a good enough hint.
You heeded the hound’s warning since your fighting spirit had long worn down since your earlier encounter, but your trainer still didn’t come. It took all your courage to ask the Arcanine when your trainer would come for you, when he answered you with words that haunt you to this day:
"Your trainer isn’t coming. He’s been taken away to be penned up for harming other humans and Pokémon. He’ll most likely be there for a number of years."
You started to cry after that and begged and pleaded for you and your trainer to be let go. You tried to explain that you didn’t know your trainer had put you up to something he wasn’t supposed to and just been trying to help him like any Pokémon with a human would. He was your dearest friend, and you swore up and down that if they’d just let him and you go that neither of you would cause any harm afterwards.
In retrospect, you're not sure why you thought your words would make any difference.
Right, that’s why you’re doing this. For your trainer. To get the strength to find him and reunite with him. It was admittedly a shot in the dark, but you reasoned that one of those stones in the man’s bag might help. Maybe there was one inside that could make you stronger. Heavens knew you could’ve used something like that back when your partner was around. Before that night the humans in the peaked caps took him.
You suck in a breath and try to dismiss those memories as you look back out at the lawn, but a few continue to linger stubbornly. Mainly ones that have got you worried about your entire plan right now.
You think back to when you were discharged from the Pokécenter after that awful night and were passed back along with your Pokéball to your human’s parents, an elderly couple who live here in Mossdeep City. Most of the trip went by inside your Pokéball after it was pushed into a darkened container before it was removed and you were unceremoniously dumped out into the outside world, still-quivering, onto their doorstep. The humans in peaked caps pulled your human’s parents aside to explain something to them, while the Arcanine from your Pokécenter room was there too and sternly warned you to stay out of further trouble.
In the dog’s words, continuing on your trainer’s path would almost certainly bring you to an unpleasant end. You remembered him telling you that there were analogues to the buildings with human cages for Pokémon, in which Pokémon would be penned up in their Pokéballs for most hours of the day, and only let out for short periods of time into drab, featureless rooms. Being sent to such a place was one potential fate for Pokémon that kept getting into trouble the way you did. Getting cast out into the wild and being forced to relearn how to survive that lifestyle was another one. If you really got into trouble, the Arcanine warned you that you could even be put to death.
That last thought makes your attention drift from the yard outside your hiding place and sends a shiver up your spine. You’ve been ignoring the Arcanine’s warnings for some time now, and while you haven’t gotten caught yet, if you did, you don’t know what threshold the humans would use to decide whether or not to take your life.
You remind yourself that you’re not taking this great risk for the thrill of it. As far as you know, you’re the only one out there, human or Pokémon, that still cares about the fate of your partner.
Your trainer’s parents would normally be the ones to come and defend him when he was younger, but ever since you were handed over to them, they seemed to have forgotten about him. They stopped talking about their son and took down the pictures they had of him around the house. They even got rid of most of his belongings, with the band on your arm being one of the few items you were able to snatch away for yourself.
They don’t pay you much mind either and basically ignore you as long as you come home at night and don’t show up obviously injured. You don’t know whether or not it’s because you remind them of the son they seemingly forgot, or if it’s just because they’ve grown older and more sedentary.
The various friends your trainer used to have similarly haven’t done anything either. You haven’t even seen them beyond a couple chance encounters on the street. Their own Pokémon told you that there was nothing to be done for your human until he was released from his captivity.
That left just you to try and get your trainer back, but you would need strength for that. Strength more than what your occasional scuffles in this town’s back alleys and snatched item here or there from your daytime wanderings would accomplish. Strength like what those stones are supposed to provide, which from what you overheard from the man in black’s Pokémon said, carry a power that can transform Pokémon entirely.
You snap back to attention after hearing heavy footsteps and see the man and his Metagross head off for the house, with his bag sitting unattended on the patio table.
This is your big and only chance. It could be the last thing that you or your partner ever stole for all you care, so long as it helped you get him back.
You burst from the brush, reminding yourself to make this an in-and-out encounter. You bolt up to the table and hop up one of the chairs, hurriedly tipping the bag over and pawing through its contents.
Inside, you find all sorts of rocks. Small ones, large ones, rough ones, smooth ones. Tools for measuring them, tools for chipping away at them. … Was this human raised by an Aggron or something? Since you can’t say you’ve ever run into a human that cared about rocks this much before.
As you paw through the stones, you see it: a round, light-blue stone with an orange and white swirl. That must be one of the ones that made Pokémon stronger.
Just then, you hear a door slam open and freeze up. You wrap your claws around the blue stone and leap off the chair, bolting across the lawn for the fenceline. You leap to try and scrabble up it, when a harsh, metallic voice barks at you to stop.
You see a bluish aura envelop your body, and your eyes shrink to pins as an unseen force abruptly freezes you in midair and holds you aloft. You thrash about to try and break free, to no avail. You gulp and look back, as the man in black approaches you and the Metagross with him holds you aloft with telekinetic force, glaring daggers at you all the while before it gives a passing insult at your intelligence for thinking it wise to steal from them.
“‘Grovyle the Thief’, huh? Whoever put you up to this one’s been reading too many children’s stories.”
‘G-Grovyle the Thief’? ‘Stories’? You didn’t pick up all of the man’s words, but humans have ones about Grovyle that steal things?
You try to glare back and flash your leafy blades to show that you won’t go down without a fight, when his Metagross lets out a metallic-sounding hiss and makes a clacking noise from its lower body before telling you to go ahead and make its day. You shiver at the sound when you realize the noise probably came from the Metagross’ mouth. Metagross are supposed to be vicious predators that pin their prey under their bodies to devour them, and this one has you completely at its mercy.
You suddenly feel so small and alone. No human partner, and this was your desperate attempt to get him back. You pull your tails tight against your body and begin to stammer an explanation back in your tongue as your words come out in a squeaking stream. That you were never really going to hurt anyone. That you’ll leave right away if the man in black will just tell his partner to let you go. That Grovyle don’t taste good for anyone to eat, and especially not for Metagross.
The Metagross growls and remarks about you putting up a ‘pathetic display’, while the human doesn’t seem to pick up on anything you said and begins to approach. You draw in shallow, tense breaths and let out a frightened whine as he nears; then you look up and blink in confusion.
He’s… smiling at you right now. You’re not sure why, but he turns his eyes down at your paws still wrapped around the blue stone and points at them with one of his fingers.
“Oh, you were trying to grow stronger, weren’t you?”
‘Stronger’? This human knows about that? About how you’re trying to get strength to get your partner back?
The man says something quietly to the Metagross that makes the Steel-type sigh. The force holding you pulls you back from the fence and lets go. Without thinking, you turn to run, but before you can get more than a couple steps away, a sharp bark rings out and demands to know where you think you’re going. You skid to a stop as the Metagross blocks your path and tells you that it and its human aren’t done with you. Because of course they aren’t.
You gulp and shrink back, and look at the white-haired man, only to see that he doesn’t seem angry with you. The Metagross relays the man’s question to you and after a moment’s hesitation, you give a timid nod back to him in reply. The man hesitates after your answer, before making his way back to the bag you tore up to fish through the other rocks that were inside it.
You’re not sure if you’re in trouble right now or not. The human seems friendly… but definitely not safe. You look down at the blue stone in your paws. From how little you understand his tongue, it’s for the best not to make assumptions: for all you know, he’s toying with you right now before he turns you over to the humans in the peaked caps… or feeds you to his Metagross.
When you look back up, you see the man return with his right hand cupped around something. It’s probably a Pokéball. He must think you live in the wild and be planning to try and catch you. You’re pretty sure it won’t work since you can still go in and out of your trainer’s just fine… not that the man in black would know that.
“I’m afraid you wouldn’t have any luck getting stronger with that stone though. That’s for my partner; this was the one you wanted.”
Something about the stone you’re holding. Something about his Metagross. You forget for a moment that humans can’t understand Pokémon tongue and reflexively open your mouth to ask him to explain, only for him to pre-empt you by opening his right hand and showing off a pair of spherical stones in his grasp. One of them is a light green stone with a red and green swirl in it. You look down at your body and then at the stone, then at the one in your paws and off at the Metagross.
His Metagross then asks you how you planned on being able to use a Metagrossite in the first place. You blink at the question and suddenly feel a lot stupider. Of course a stone that would make a Pokémon stronger would look like the Pokémon that it would work on, and you snatched the one that looked nothing like you!
“I found this Sceptilite on a recent caving expedition, but I don’t really have need for it myself. Not too many of my friends would be able to use it, either. But it could make you strong, and awaken the might of a dragon in you for a short time.”
You missed most of his explanation, but managed to pick up part of his last few words. ‘Might… of a dragon’? You turn and ask the Metagross if that little rock would make you into a dragon? As in those strong creatures that fly about the skies as they please? The ones that humans tell myths of roosting in this land and soaring up to strike stars from the heavens? Of controlling time from a distant land in the far north?
You don’t know how on earth that’s possible, but you certainly aren’t going to turn it down right now. That’s exactly the sort of power you’d need to get your partner back.
The Metagross swiftly crushes your excitement by pointing out that the stone would indeed do that… for a Sceptile, while you are a Grovyle.
You hang your head a little with a low, disappointed whine when you remember that there is a second stone of many colors with a swirl in it in the man’s hand as well. One that seems to match a pin that’s set in place on the collar of his suit. What’s that one for?
“It’ll take you some time to use that Sceptilite, and you also wouldn’t be able to use it on your own. You’d need the help of a human like me that you deeply trust. Though it looks like you already have someone like that, don’t you?”
You follow the human’s finger towards the armband around your wrist. The second stone… is for your partner? The Metagross confirms your theory and explains that this second stone is a ‘Key Stone’, and it apparently works together with stones like this ‘Sceptilite’ somehow.
You don’t understand how those things work, and you’re not fully sure why these two are just dangling them in front of you. The man in black holds out the hand with the stones, and then the other empty-palmed. You hear the sound of heavy footsteps and see the Metagross backing out of the way, and cast a glance between your escape route and at the man in black.
“So what do you say, Grovyle? Seem like a fair trade for that Metagrossite and letting you go?”
The Metagross tells you its trainer is offering you a trade and encourages you not to turn it up, since it frankly would’ve preferred to Meteor Mash you and call it a day. You look at the blue stone in your paws, and the pair in the man’s hand. You could turn and flee now while the path is open, or you could take a risk and give up this stone that he evidently cares so much about, which surely must be valuable if he’s willing to give up two others in exchange for it.
You hesitate for a moment, when your mind turns back to your partner, waiting caged and alone somewhere, and you look at the two stones in the man’s hand. In a swift motion, you make the trade and palm the green stone and the iridescent stone.
You back up for the stone fence, nervously reminding the man that you made a trade and that he promised you your well-being. Your words go over his head, but beyond giving an unamused scowl, his Metagross does not move to cut you off, and the smile remains on the human’s face as he looks down at you.
“I figured you’d like it. Just don’t get yourself into trouble trying to impress your friend, okay?”
You nod back and clutch onto the stones before hastily scrabbling over the fence and into a back alley behind it. You stay there panting tensely for a while, when you gape up and see that the sun is further towards the west than you remembered it. It’s time for you to go home before your trainer’s parents get too worried about you.
The whole time, you make your way down confident and at peace, without the earlier nervousness you’d had for much of the day. You don’t know when the day will come, but someday, you will be a dragon. And one way or another, you will wield that power alongside your old friend. Together.
Original Drabble:
Charizard
Cute but Ferocious
Flapple
Dragons' Lineage
Goomy
A Dragon Someday
Ekans
Flightless
Exeggutor
You crouch and peek out from the bushes along the stone fenceline, the salt tang of the air pricking your nostrils as you crouch and pull leaves on your arms taut into each other as blades. Humans call this place you’re in ‘Mossdeep City’, and were your partner here, he’d surely pull you back into your Pokéball. You don’t know what he’d say, since your human is a bit rusty, but you’re sure the gist of it would be that this was a terrible idea.
After all, the houses here are big, belonging to humans with many treasures. Your partner instructed you in the past that it was not safe to go through such houses blindly. Many of them are watched by the likes of guarding Manectric. It was better to snatch the things of the humans from the big houses while they were out and about in the busier parts of the city, where a human like your partner could get lost among the crowds as easily as you could among the treetops of a forest.
You thought of trying to do that back deeper in town, when you’d first seen this man and overheard him with some companions of his. You didn’t make out all of his conversation, but he’d apparently found stones that made Pokémon stronger. Maybe there was one that could make you stronger. Heavens knew you could’ve used that back when your partner was around.
Your attention drifts back to the scene at the house. A man in white hair in a black suit can be seen tending to a Metagross. You begin to understand why there’s no guards here. This human and the companion you can already see are already strong enough to be their own guards. Attempting direct battle with them would be tantamount to suicide. The easiest way to get at it would be for your partner to distract the man and his companion while you cut open the bag and snatched those stones within it and ran off.
Except, your partner isn’t here. You glance at a small black wristband on your arm. It’s your trainer’s. Perhaps you should’ve suspected that something was wrong from the way you and him kept getting into fights with other humans, often over little trinkets or bits of paper and metal that humans value. But you took it all in stride. It was thrilling, almost like hunting, and you had his back and he had yours.
… Until the night that the humans in the peaked caps took him away. You remember waking up afterwards in a strange place, coming to cornered by a snarling Arcanine that worked with them. There was the moment after that where you bowled over sobbing and begging not to be roasted, but you don’t like thinking too much about it. It’s not exactly one of your prouder ones. After you realized you weren’t going to die and calmed down a bit afterwards, you gathered your nerves to try and face down the imposing hound. It took all your courage as you tried to explain that you’d just been trying to help your trainer like any Pokémon would, and begged and pleaded for you and your trainer to be let go, insisting that you wouldn’t cause any harm afterwards.
You don’t know if your words had any effect. In the end, your trainer was taken away in a black-and-white car, and you had never seen him since then. You were passed back along with your Pokéball to his parents, an elderly couple who live here in Mossdeep City, dropped off still-quivering on their doorstep as the humans in peaked caps explained something to them, and the Arcanine with them passed you a warning to stay out of further trouble.
In the dog’s words, continuing on his trainer’s path would bring him an unpleasant end. He remembered being put into something called ‘stasis’ being one of them, as was being cast out into the wild. If you really got into trouble, the Arcanine warned, you could even be put to death.
You shiver a bit at the last thought. You don’t know what threshold the humans would use to decide to take your life. But as it stands, you’re already taking a great risk. Your trainer’s parents seemed to forget about him after the humans in peaked caps took you back to them. They stopped talking about him, and took down the pictures they had of him around the house. They don’t pay you much mind either and basically ignore you as long as you come home at night and don’t show up obviously injured. You don’t know whether or not it’s because you remind them of the son they seemingly forgot, or if it’s just because of them growing older and more sedentary.
But it quickly became apparent to you that if anyone would get your trainer back, it’d be you. But you would need strength for that. Strength more than what your occasional scuffles in the back alley and snatched item here or there from your daytime wanderings about the town would accomplish. Strength like what those stones are supposed to provide, with a power that can transform Pokémon entirely.
You snap back to attention and see the man and the Metagross head off for the house. This is your big chance. It could be the last thing that you or your partner ever stole for all you care, so long as it helped you get him back.
You tip the bag over and paw through its contents, where you find all sorts of rocks. Small ones, large ones. Tools for picking at them. Was this human raised by an Aggron or something? As you paw through them, you see it: a round, light-blue stone with a orange and white swirl. That must be one of the stones that made Pokémon stronger.
Just then, you hear a door slam open and tense up. You wrap your claws around the blue stone and take off running for the fenceline. You leap to try and scrabble up it, when you feel your body abruptly freeze in midair, and see a bluish aura envelop your body. You thrash in the air to try and break free, but to no avail. You gulp and look back, seeing the man in black approach you as the Metagross with him holds you aloft with telekinetic force, glaring daggers at you all the while.
“‘Grovyle the Thief’, huh? Whoever put you up to this one’s been reading too many stories.”
‘G-Grovyle the Thief’? A ‘story’? Humans have ones about Grovyle that steal things?
You try to glare back, but you can’t help but shiver after his Metagross lets out a metallic-sounding hiss. They are supposed to be vicious predators that pin their prey under their bodies to devour them, and his has you completely at his mercy. You pull your tails tight against your body and begin to stammer an explanation back in your tongue that you were never going to hurt anyone, that you’ll leave right away if you’ll just be let go, and the Grovyle don’t taste good for anyone to eat, and especially not for Metagross like his.
You’re pretty sure that you might as well have blurted out “please don’t hurt me, I’m just a little gecko” and the human would’ve understood just as much. You draw in shallow, tense, breaths as he approaches, when he looks down at your paws and points at them with a small smile.
“Oh, so you were trying to grow stronger, huh?”
‘Stronger’? He knows about that? You feel the force holding you let go and turn to run, only for the Metagross to block your path. You let out a low whine and shrink back, and look back at the white-haired man, only to see that he doesn’t seem angry with you. You give a timid nod back, and the man hesitates, before making his way back to the bag you tore up to fish through it.
You’re… not sure if you’re in trouble right now or not. The human seems friendly… but definitely not safe. You look down at the blue stone in your paws. From how little you understand of his tongue, it’s for the best to not assume things. For all you know, he’s toying with you right now before he feeds you to his Metagross.
When you look back up, you see the man approaching with his right hand cupped around something. Probably a Pokéball to try and catch you. You’re pretty sure it won’t work since you can still go in and out of your trainer’s just fine… not that the man in black would know that.
“I’m afraid you wouldn’t have any luck with that stone though. That’s for my partner, this was the one you wanted.”
Something about the stone you’re holding. Something about his Metagross. You forget for a moment that humans can’t understand Pokémon tongue and reflexively open your mouth to ask, only for him to pre-empt you by opening his right hand and showing off a pair of spherical stones. One of them is a light green stone with a red and green swirl in it. You look down at your body and then at the stone, then at the one in your paws and off at the Metagross.
You suddenly feel a lot stupider now. Of course a stone that would make a Pokémon stronger would look like the Pokémon that it would work on, and you snatched the one that looked nothing like you!
“I found it on a recent caving expedition, and actually don’t have a need for it myself. Not too many of my friends would be able to use it either. It’ll make you strong, to awaken the might of a dragon in you for a short time.”
You missed most of his explanation, but managed to pick up part of his last few words. ‘Might… of a dragon’? As in that little rock would make you into a dragon? As those strong creatures that fly about the skies as they please? The ones that humans tell myths of controlling time from the far north?
You don’t know how on earth that’s possible, but you certainly aren’t going to turn it down right now. That’s exactly the sort of power you’d need to get your partner back.
“Though you won’t be able to use it right now. It’s a Sceptileite, after all. You’d need to grow a bit before you could use it.”
Except, you can’t use it right now. You hang your head a little with a low, disappointed whine when you remember that there was a second stone of many colors with a swirl in it. What’s that one for?
“You also wouldn’t be able to use it on your own. You’d need the help of someone like me that you deeply trust. Though it looks like you already have someone like that, don’t you?”
You follow the human’s finger towards the armband around your wrist. The second stone… is for your partner? You don’t understand how things work fully, but the two apparently work together somehow. The man in black holds out the hand with the stones, and then the other empty-palmed. You hear the sound of heavy footsteps and see the Metagross backing out of the way, and cast a glance between your escape route and back at the man.
“So what do you say? Seem like a fair trade for that Metagrossite and letting you go?”
You look at the blue stone in your paws, and the pair in the man’s hands. You could turn and flee now while the path is open, or you could take a risk and give up this stone that he evidently cares so much about. You hesitate for a moment, when your mind turns back to your partner, and you look at the two stones in his hand. In a swift motion, you make the trade and palm the green and the iridescent stones.
You nervously remind the man that you made a trade and that he promised you your well-being. Your words go over his head, but his Metagross does not move to cut you off, and the smile remains on his face as he looks down at you.
“I figured you’d like it. Just don’t get yourself into trouble trying to impress your friend, okay?”
You nod back, clutch onto the stones and hastily scrabble over the fence and into the back alley. You stay there panting tensely for a while, when you gape up and see that the sun is further towards the west than you remembered it. It’s time for you to go home before your trainers’ parents get too worried.
The whole time, you make your way down confident and at peace, without the earlier nervousness you’d had for much of the day. Someday, you would be a dragon. And one way or another, you would wield that power alongside your old friend. Together.
A loud crash rings out after your head strikes the floor, the momentum rolling you onto your back. You lie there for a moment, looking up at the ceiling and at the shelf along the wall that you dove off of for the fifth time, where you can see books and various odds and ends belonging to your trainer.
You turn your eyes down at your blue and yellow scales and your nubby arms and let out a sulking growl. You’re still no closer to flying than you were the first time you dove off the shelf, or the day earlier, or any number of days before that.
You get up and reorient yourself with your surroundings, namely your trainer’s bedroom. Ahead of you by the window is the bed your trainer sleeps on, still messy from not being tidied up in the morning. To the right, there’s a large, squarish box called a ‘television’ that has a gray plastic device with pads with multicolored buttons on it connected by cables hooked up to it. Sometimes it has gray devices with stickers on them wedged into it, but today it has a translucent blue one in it that itself has a yellow card seated in it. It got moved from the living room after a black one like it took its place a couple years ago, and your trainer mostly uses it these days for playing some video games that have gotten popular in recent years. Ones that he played on some sort of plastic brick before he got that blue device.
They’re the same ones that the small row of little dolls on the television are from. Like the one that looks like some sort of Feraligatr mixed with a Gyarados. Or the one that looks like a shrunken Rhydon. Or the one that looks like a Sharpedo with a spear on its snout. Strange creatures that at once feel vaguely familiar to you, yet not, for reasons you can’t place.
And off to the left, there’s a desk for schoolwork and a set of boxes called a ‘computer’ there. Next to it, there’s a Wartortle stirring from basking under the sun: Roy, your trainer’s starter. He’s a leader of sorts for the team of Pokémon who share your trainer. You flinch a bit, thinking he’s going to get up and scold you, only for him to briefly pull his head and limbs partly into his shell, before turning with a sleepy murmur.
You’re a little surprised that he’s so unfazed by the racket you’re making, but after diving over and over again onto the carpeted floor for the umpteenth time, he must’ve gotten used to it.
You give the side of the shelf a growling headbutt and fume to yourself. Your kind is supposed to be able to fly! But in your trainer’s cramped house here in this town, with everyone pressed up against each other in a sprawl, your opportunities to practice are limited to dives off furniture when others are out of the house… or aren’t paying attention, like how your trainer is busy right now with some ‘laundry’ thing with the other humans of his family.
You should probably stop before anyone notices since you get scolded whenever your dives wind up damaging something or distracting others, even if your trainer and his family have grown more and more used to your attempts to practice flying. But what did they expect? Dragons of your kind are supposed to fly, you know it in your bones. Bagon like you in the wild supposedly feel that way enough to leap off bluffs and even cliffs to try! Like the fake ones in your Pokéball, except much taller and real.
... You wonder if any of them ever got any closer to flying than you have.
But your “cliff” here is this shelf. It’s taller than Roy, or any of your teammates, but that’s not saying a whole lot, especially when your trainer stands taller than it. Agh, if only you could go someplace higher up! You’d heard that some Pokémon needed to have space to dive first before they could fly, maybe that’s what you’re missing right now.
You don’t know for sure if it will work, but diving off the bedroom shelf isn’t going anywhere at this rate, and if you believe what Roy tells you about human beliefs, repeating the same thing over and over again while expecting different results is considered a sign of insanity among humans.
Except, you’re here in this little three-story house amid a sea of others just like it. It’s not as if you’re going to just conveniently find a cliff here to jump off and try…
You feel a breeze blow in through the window and look off at your trainer’s bed. The window behind it was left ajar to help cool the room down since it’s been fairly warm this week.
… It occurs to you that you’re on the top floor of the house right now. Even if the height out the window is surely still short compared to a cliff, it is taller than the jump off the shelf.
Maybe it’d be enough for you to finally fly?
It’s not as if you have anything better to do right now. Roy’s dozing off, and your other teammates are busy elsewhere in the house. You make your way over to your trainer’s bed, and after a few fumbling attempts, you clamber up it. Then you go up to the windowsill, and over to the window where you put your nubby arms up to the gap.
“Nrgh…”
You tug at the window to open it wider, but you keep struggling to pull it open. After eventually getting it wide enough to slip a leg in, you decide to wedge your body between the window and push it open with a creak.
You step back and look down from the windowsill. You can see the windows of the lower levels of your trainer’s house below; the entire building is much deeper lengthwise than what one would expect when initially seeing it from its entrance. Like most of the other ones on this street are. The side you’re facing overlooks the side alley where trash gets left to be picked up, with a fenceline barely a human arm span apart that separates the house from the alley’s pavement.
You go up to the ledge, but once there, you hesitate. Is this a good idea? You’ve made this jump once before and gotten chewed out over it by both Roy and your trainer. Something about it being dangerous. You hadn’t been able to fly when you tried that time, but almost felt like you were.
You’re older and more experienced now. For some Pokémon like Taillow that’s all it takes, from what you’ve heard. Maybe… just maybe, things will be different this time if you try.
“Whuh? Marl?”
You stiffen up and look back down at the desk where your Wartortle teammate is getting up and rubbing his eyes. He stares at you blankly for a moment, before seeing you at the edge of the windowsill with the window open and you ready to leap through it. His red eyes widen in alarm, and he starts to dart over with a claw held out to grab you.
“Wait! Marl! What are you-?!”
If Roy’s going to get you in trouble, you might as well just jump. And so you ignore his cries and leap ahead, lowering your head into a dive. You flap your arms for good measure, so that way it’ll help you pull up as you near the ground.
Except, you didn’t realize how close to the house you were—
CHUNK!
Your head hits something hard and stony, and you pinwheel forward like you did after diving off the shelf in your trainer’s room. Except there’s no carpeted floor below you this time. You briefly feel air underneath you, before your left leg smacks the pavement and the rest of your body follows.
You hear a faint crack and agony shoots through your leg.
Then the air fills with your screams.
Everything after your dive from the window went by in a blur. You remember bawling from the pain in your leg and crying out for your friends for help. It wasn’t long before Roy wrangled your trainer and your teammates along. After discovering that so much as touching your left leg hurt you, your trainer recalled you to your Pokéball and everything went black.
When you came to, you woke up on a bed in the backroom of the local Pokécenter: at once the pain in your leg came back and you started to cry again. After calming you a bit, the human and Pokémon nurses there put your left leg in a splint and cast, which held it still and helped make the pain more manageable.
A little while later, your trainer and teammates were allowed into the room, and they came in to try and comfort you.
You were discharged from the Pokécenter within the day. The Chansey that worked there told you that you’d broken your leg from your fall. Evidently Bagon’s armored heads didn’t do much to defend them if they fell on other parts of their bodies. Your wound was beyond the ability of the machines there to heal, and was so severe that your Pokéball would put you in stasis whenever you were in it. Hence why you blacked out and didn’t see the normal simulated mountains and cliffs in your Pokéball or the world outside in its sky when you were recalled.
That’s what you were told, anyways. In order for your leg bones to heal as quickly as possible, you’d need to have Potions applied periodically and rest outside your Pokéball with your leg in its cast so that your trainer and teammates could keep an eye on you as your leg bones stitched themselves back together.
Which in practice meant your trainer or one of your teammates would stand watch by you as you laid in a tatty bed set on the floor. It apparently used to be Roy’s when he was smaller, and judging from the rips and tears in the fabric from what looked like bite marks… you honestly had no reason to disbelieve your teammates.
And so there you are, on the floor of the bedroom where the gray box with cables would normally be, in this chewed-up bed, lying down and looking up at the ceiling much as you did just after diving off the shelf yesterday. Except this time, you can’t even hope to get up onto the shelf on your own.
You look down the hallway after hearing chatter and footsteps and see your trainer, a younger teenaged boy with a face that other humans kept having the hardest time picking out. He’s tending to a Flaafy, a Murkrow, and a Cubone and packing up a bag. Heading out, it looks like.
“Marl?”
You turn your attention and look up at the other side of the bed to see a Wartortle’s face peering down at you worriedly. Right, it’s Roy’s turn from among your teammates to watch over you. You… haven’t really been keeping track of time with how miserable you’ve felt since coming home.
“How are you holding up, Marl?”
“Awful,” you reply.
The turtle grimaces briefly, before pawing at the back of his head by one of his furry ears and looks away.
“I… kinda figured,” he sighs back. “I don’t mean to kick you while you’re down, but at least you now know why you’re not supposed to jump from the window, right?”
You get up and grit your teeth. That wasn’t your fault. It was the fault of that stupid wall in the alleyway! If it wasn’t there, you’d have landed on your head like you were supposed to if you weren’t able to fly and none of this would’ve happened!
You say about as much back to Roy, and try to sit up only to feel pain shoot through your splinted leg. You try to blink back a few tears, and curse yourself for failing to do so. As if you needed to look any weaker or more pathetic right now. You wipe the tears away and try to put on a brave face, but you find yourself unable to do much other than look down at your bedding with a glum murmur.
“I- I just wanted to fly…”
The Wartortle looks at you for a moment, before shaking his head. He gives a scratch under your chin, a trick he and your trainer picked up in the past from another human who cared for another dragon. One that could fly like a dragon is supposed to. Normally, him doing this helps put you in a good mood and makes you giggle if he brushes up against a ticklish spot.
Except, right now your leg’s throbbing and you just can’t get your mind off of it.
“You’ll get there. But… just take it easy for a while, okay?” the Wartortle tells you. “I need to help Calvin with a grocery run in a bit, so it might be a good time to get some rest.”
You freeze after the words leave Roy’s mouth. You think you really are going to cry now. You’re in pain and can’t try to chase the thing you love or do anything else but just sit here, and now your own team leader is telling you…
“Y-You’re just going to leave me here alone?” you stammer. “C-Can’t you at least bring me along in my Pokéball?”
The Wartortle hesitates a moment, before shaking his head in reply.
“Your leg won’t heal properly if you’re in your Pokéball all the time. It’ll put you in stasis in your present condition, remember?” the Water-type reminds you. “We’ll be back before you know it, I promise.”
Every word from the Wartortle is like an Icicle Spear, hitting you one after another. He turns for the door when he seems to pick up on you not feeling well. He hesitates for a moment, before turning back to face you.
“I know that humans don’t really understand Pokémon in general, Marl. But I’ll try and get Calvin to pick up something for you,” he says. “The rest of the family will check up on you if you need any help. Just call out for them.”
You feel too crushed to say anything back at the moment, and you slump into your bedding with a defeated murmur.
“O-Okay.”
Roy turns his head and slips past the door frame as you sink into your bedding. Your voice hitches, and when you think no one is watching you, you sniffle a little and begin to shed a few tears into its fabric.
“We’re back!”
You must’ve dozed off after Roy left, since the next thing you remember after crying and nodding off was hearing the Wartortle’s voice. You raise your head from your bed as the Water-type hurries in, carrying a small length of string. He approaches you with an eager smile, which abruptly slides off his face as he pauses and then bites his tongue.
“Oh. I… didn’t realize you were feeling so upset, Marl.”
You see a flash of guilt come over the Water-type’s face and narrow your eyes. He could’ve not left you behind earlier or stayed home, but no. He just had to go along to get the stupid groceries. You turn away with a pouting huff, before feeling his claws paw at your chin.
“Look, I really didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t care about how you were doing,” he said. “Though hopefully the surprise we got you while we were out helps make up for it a bit.”
“And what’s this ‘surprise’ supposed to be?” you grumble, without turning to look at him.
The Wartortle opens his mouth to explain, only to catch himself and think better of it before he speaks up with a small grin.
“Wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I just told you,” he says. “You’ll figure it out pretty quickly, just sit up for a bit.”
You warily sit up and shuffle onto your bum, wincing after you apply pressure onto your left leg a couple of times. It’s at that point that you hear footsteps approaching, and see your trainer come into the room holding a large red balloon.
Your face falls, and you shoot back a sharp glare at the Wartortle.
“Roy, why would you bring a balloon to taunt me like this?” you sulk. “As if I needed more reminders that I can’t fly—!”
The human teen hesitates for a moment before he stoops down and pats at your chin, and you can’t help but calm down briefly. Roy takes the opportunity to lift your arms up, as your trainer slips the cord of the balloon around you and ties it around your chest underneath your arms. At once, you feel a force tugging you from above. You look up at the balloon and then down again, when you notice it.
“Oh!”
Your feet! They aren’t touching the ground anymore!
Your feet somehow are now about Roy’s waist height off the ground. You lean forward, trying to keep your belly parallel to the ground. Much to your surprise, you manage to stay off it at about the same height. You flap your arms and stay aloft, when your heart flutters as it suddenly dawns on you…
“I’m- I’m flying! I’m flying!”
“Well, more like ‘floating’, you’re being held up by something humans call an ‘Air Balloon’,” Roy corrects you. “They don’t last that long, but they help keep Pokémon off the ground for battles, especially little ones like you.”
The Wartortle looks aside and gives a sheepish pat at his shell’s chest plates before smiling at you.
“It took a few tries to explain it to Calvin, but I figured you’d like it,” the turtle explains. “I just hope you’re not too mad at me for not being there for you earlier.”
The boy with the unplaceable face stoops down and pets you. You can’t understand most of what he’s saying to you in his tongue—that’s more Roy’s skill. But from the way his voice inflects, you’re pretty sure your trainer is asking you something. The Wartortle listens in for a moment, before he turns over to you.
“Calvin says you looked lonely in bed all day, and he wants to know if you’d like to get tugged around a bit,” the Wartortle explains. “It’s not quite the same as having a pair of wings, but…”
You start to feel tears well up in your eyes again and sniffle a bit. This time, it’s not because you’re feeling hurt or sad or alone, but because you can’t get over how you’re actually flying right now… sort of.
And so, the next words come out of your mouth without you even realizing it.
“I-I’d love that, actually.”
Five minutes later, you’re in the back alley that your trainer’s bedroom window overlooks. The air rushes against your body as you lay level with the ground, the pavement zipping past you. Your splinted leg slips from mind as there’s nothing for it to brush up against and you race past mountains and clouds in your imagination.
A length of string tied up against the Air Balloon’s cord pulls you forward, and you whoop and holler excitedly as Roy tows you after him. All the while, you flap your arms and call out for your teammate to keep going and to pull faster. There’s only so much Roy can do as a Wartortle, but he does his best, laughing and cheering you along all the while as the sky flushes orange from sunset.
In one corner of your mind, you’re sure that this must look silly to dragons who can fly like they’re supposed to: you can’t move yourself without help, you can’t steer, and you can’t do rolls or loops. Much as Roy said, it’s not really flying.
But for the rest of you, none of that matters right now. You can feel the air brush against your scales all the same, you can look some of the world down, and you’re able to share it with your friends. Just like how you will someday in the future when you’re all grown up and can spread your wings and fly just like this all by yourself.
Original Drabble:
Charizard
Cute but Ferocious
Flapple
Dragons' Lineage
Goomy
A Dragon Someday
Ekans
Flightless
Exeggutor
WHAM!
You heard a loud crash ring out after your head struck the floor and rolled onto your back. You lay there a moment, looking back up the shelf you dove off of for the fifth time, then down at your blue and yellow scales and your nubby arms. Still no closer to flying than you’d were the first time, nor the day earlier, nor any number of days before that.
The bump stirred the Wartortle basking under the sun next to a desk, but he otherwise ignored it and dozed off. Roy, your trainer’s starter and leader of sorts of the team your were on. You supposed that after diving onto the carpeted floor for the umpteenth time. You gave the side of the shelf a growling headbutt and fumed to yourself.
Your kind was supposed to be able to fly. And yet, your opportunities to practice in your trainer’s cramped house in this urban sprawl were limited to dives off furniture when others were out of the house or not paying attention or busy with things like this ‘laundry’ that your trainer was. Dragons of your kind were supposed to fly, and it was something you could feel in your bones. Your counterparts in the wild supposedly felt enough to leap off cliffs... you wondered if they got any closer to flying than you did.
If only you could go someplace taller. You didn’t know if it would work for helping you to fly, but diving off the bedroom shelf wasn’t going anywhere, and repeating the same thing while expecting different results was supposedly a sign of insanity among humans. Or at least that was what Roy had said.
Except, you were here in this little two-story house amid a sea of others just like it. It wasn’t as if you’d find a cliff conveniently here for you to jump off…
You felt a breeze blow in through the window, and looked off at the desk, and saw that the window was open on it. … It was surely still short, but it was taller than the jump off the shelf, wasn’t it?
You made your way over, and after a few fumbling attempts, clambered up the seat, then up to the desk, and over to the window where you put your nubby arms up on it.
“Nrgh…”
You tugged at the window to open it wider, but you just kept struggling to move it. You eventually decided to wedge your body between the window and pushed it open with a creak. You stepped back and looked down from the ledge. Your trainer’s house was a narrow, three-story building wedged in between others, with a fenceline barely a human arm span apart separating you from the side alley where trash was dropped off to be picked up.
You’d made this jump once before and gotten chewed out over it. Something about it being dangerous. But you’d almost felt like you were flying then, and you were older and more experienced now. Maybe… just maybe, things would be different this time.
“Whuh? Marl?”
You stiffened up and looked back down at the desk where your Wartortle teammate was getting up and rubbing his eyes. He stared at you blankly for a moment, before seeing you at the windowsill, and the window open and just waiting for you to leap through it.
“Wait! Marl! What are you-?!”
If he was going to get you in trouble, you might as well just jump. You leapt ahead and dove, hearing your friend call after you. You flapped your arms for good measure, so that way it’d help you pull up as you neared the ground. Except, you didn’t realize how close to the house you were-
CHUNK!
You felt your head hit something hard and stony, and pinwheeled forward like you did after diving off the shelf. Except there was no carpeted floor below you. You felt air briefly, before landing on your left leg against the pavement. You heard a faint crack and felt agony shoot through your leg.
And then you screamed.
The time after your dive from the window went by in a blur. You remember bawling from the pain in your leg and crying out for help. It wasn’t long before Roy wrangled your trainer and your teammates along, and after discovering that so much as touching your left leg hurt you, recalled you to your Pokéball and rushed you to the local Pokécenter.
You were discharged within the day. The Chansey that worked there told you that you’d broken your leg from your fall. Evidently Bagon’s armored heads didn’t do much to defend them if they fell on other parts of their bodies. The wound that was beyond the ability of the machines there to heal, and in order for it to heal as quickly as possible, you’d need to rest outside your Pokéball with your left leg in a splint and cast for your trainer and teammates to keep an eye on you as your leg bones stitched themselves back together.
Which in practice meant one of your trainer or one of your teammates standing watch by you in a tatty bed laid on the floor. It apparently used to be Roy’s when he was smaller, and judging from the rips and tears in the fabric from what looked like bite marks… you honestly had no reason to disbelieve your teammates.
And so there you were, on the floor of the bedroom, lying on your back much as you were when you’d dived off the shelf. Except this time, you couldn’t even hope to get up the shelf on your own. You looked down the hallway, where your trainer, a younger teenaged boy with a face that other humans kept having the hardest time picking out was tending to a Flaafy and Cubone while packing up a bag. Heading out, it looked like.
“Marl?”
You turned your attention and looked up to see a Wartortle’s face peering down at you worriedly.
“How are you holding up, Marl?”
“Awful,” you replied, prompting the turtle to paw at the back of his head by one of his furry ears.
“I… kinda figured,” he sighed back. “I don’t mean to kick you while you’re down, but at least you now know why you’re not supposed to jump from the window, right?”
You get up and grit your teeth. That wasn’t your fault. It was the fault of that stupid fence! If it wasn’t there, you’d have landed on your head like you were supposed to if you weren’t able to fly and none of this would’ve happened!
You say about as much back to the Wartortle, and sit up when you feel pain shoot through your splinted leg. You try to blink back a few tears, and curse yourself for doing so. As if you needed to look any weaker and more pathetic right now. You wipe the tears away and try to force on a brave face, before looking down with a glum murmur.
“I- I just wanted to fly…” you murmur.
The Wartortle looks at you for a moment, before shaking his head. He gives a scratch under your chin, a trick he picked up from a human who cared for another dragon. One that could fly like a dragon is supposed to. In better times, it helped put you in a good mood. Except, you had a throbbing leg right now that you couldn’t get your mind off of.
“You’ll get there. But… just take it easy for a while, okay?” the Wartortle tells you. “I need to help with a grocery run in a bit, so it might be a good time to get some rest.”
You think you really are going to cry now. You’re in pain and can’t try to chase the thing you love, and now your own team leader is telling you…
“Y-You’re just going to leave me here?” you stammer. “C-Can’t you at least bring me along in my Pokéball?”
“Your leg won’t heal properly if you’re in your Pokéball all the time for it. And I promise it won’t be for long,” the Water-type insists.
You feel as if you’ve just been frozen over in a block of ice at the Wartortle’s words, as he turns for the door. He seems to pick up on you not doing well and hesitates for a moment, before looking back towards you.
“I know that humans don’t really understand Pokémon like us, but I’ll try and get Calvin to pick up something for you,” he says. “The rest of the family will check up on you if you need any help.”
“O-Okay.”
You watch as Roy turns his head and slips past the doorframe and sink back into your bed. Your voice hitches, and when you think no one is watching you, you sniffle a little, and begin to shed a few tears into the fabric.
“We’re back!”
You must’ve dozed off after Roy left, since the first thing you remember after crying and nodding off was hearing the Wartortle’s voice. You raise your head from the bed, as the Water-type hurries in carrying a small length of string, and then abruptly pauses and bites his tongue.
“Oh. I… didn’t realize you were doing this badly, Marl.”
You see a flash of guilt come over the Water-type’s face and narrow your eyes. He could’ve not left you out or stayed behind, but no. He just had to go along to get the stupid groceries. You turn away with a pouting huff, before you feel him pawing at your chin.
“I just hope you’re not too mad at me about it,” he said. “Though hopefully this makes up for it a bit.”
“And what’s ‘this’ supposed to be?” you grumble. The Wartortle opens his mouth to explain, only to catch himself and think better of it before he speaks up.
“It’s a surprise,” he says. “You’ll figure it out pretty quickly, just sit up for a bit.”
You warily rise up and shuffle onto your bum, wincing after you apply pressure on your left leg a few times. It is then that you hear footsteps as your trainer comes into the room holding a large red balloon. Your face falls, and you shoot back a sharp glare at the Wartortle.
“Roy, why would you bring a balloon to taunt me like this?” you sulk. “As if I needed more reminders that I couldn’t fly-”
The teen stoops down and pats at your chin, and you can’t help but calm down for a moment. Roy takes the opportunity to lift your arms up, as your trainer slips the cord of the balloon around you and ties it about your chest under your arms. At once, you feel a force tugging you, and look up at the balloon, before you notice that your feet aren’t touching the ground anymore.
“Oh!”
You notice your feet are about Roy’s waist height off the ground. You lean forward, trying to keep your belly parallel to the ground. Much to your surprise, you manage to stay about the same height. You flap your arms, and stay aloft, when it suddenly dawns on you…
“I’m- I’m flying! I’m flying!”
“Well, more like ‘floating’. It took a few tries to explain it to Calvin, but I figured you’d like it,” the Wartortle corrects you. “Humans call it an ‘Air Balloon’. They don’t last that long, but they help keep Pokémon off the ground for battles, especially little ones like you.”
The boy with the unplaceable face stooped down and pets you. You can’t understand most of what he’s saying to you in his tongue. That’s more Roy’s skill. He listens for a moment, before turning over to you.
“Calvin says you looked lonely in bed all day, and wants to know if you’d like to get tugged around a bit,” he explain. “It’s not quite the same as having a pair of wings, but…”
You start to feel yourself crying again, and sniffle a bit. This time, it’s not because you’re feeling hurt or alone, but because you can’t get over how you’re actually flying right now… sort of.
And so, the next words come out of your mouth without you even realizing it.
“I-I’d love that actually.”
Five minutes later, you’re in the back alley visible from the window of your trainer’s bedroom. You feel the air rush against your body as you lay level with the ground, the pavement zipping past you. Your splinted leg slips from mind as there’s nothing for it to brush up against, as you race past mountains and clouds in your imagination.
You cling onto a length of string, whooping and hollering as Roy tugs you along, flapping your free arm as you call out for him to keep going and to pull faster. There’s only so much your teammate can do as a Wartortle, but he does his best, laughing and cheering you along all the while as the sky flushes orange from sunset.
You’re sure that this must look silly to dragons who can fly like they’re supposed to. And you suppose that Roy’s right that it’s not really flying. You can’t steer, you can’t move yourself, can’t do rolls or loops.
But none of that matters right now. You feel the air against your face all the same, and you’re able to share it with your friends. Just like you will someday in the future when you’re all grown up and can spread your wings and do the same all by yourself.
You skid back along the ground, feeling a wintery chill in the air brush against your hide. You paw at a fresh scratch on the scales on your right flank, your breaths coming out shallow and tense as a bellowing roar rings out. Your tail fire is burning fierce right now, not from determination, but from fright, as your quivering wings remind you. You try to steel your nerves, but before you get the chance, the roar’s owner—a Garchomp baring her fangs—dives at you.
Your claws abruptly erupt with green dragonfire, as you rake the Garchomp and drive her back, buying precious seconds of respite as you wonder to yourself how on earth you got into this situation. Was it when you grew nervous about being a stranger in a distant land and tried to puff yourself up and make yourself seem imposing? Was it you letting how you finally became a Charizard about a month ago get to your head? You are fully evolved and grown now; those days of cowering from a big and scary-feeling world were supposed to be over.
“Have at you!”
Supposed to be, anyways. You look up just in time to see the Garchomp dive at you, her body wreathed in a shroud of dragonfire. She slams into you with her Dragon Rush and you feel your feet leave the ground and burning pain shoot through your body—C-Charizard aren’t supposed to feel burning pain like this! Your body sails through the air in an uncontrolled tumble, and the world spins around in your vision briefly before you flop into the dirt with a dull, painful thud. You lay there stunned for a moment, when a clawed foot stomps down on your side and you see a flash of claws and razor-like teeth above you.
It is just enough to burn up those last few threads of your bravery as your mind goes into a blind panic.
“AAAAAAAH!”
You’re pretty sure that Charizard aren’t supposed to scream at this octave. Nor are they supposed to yield in battle or curl up on themselves and beg for mercy like you are doing right now. The Garchomp looks down at you with narrowed eyes and hesitates a moment when she heeds a human voice and lets go of you.
You don’t bother to wait to find out what will happen next. You scrabble to your feet and run over to a young human man waiting for you at your end of the battlefield. Your trainer. Right, you are in a sporting match. You were never supposed to genuinely be in danger the whole time, even if the Garchomp seemed to be doing her best to make it feel like life and death hung in the balance.
You duck behind your trainer with a low whine, much as you did in the past as a Charmeleon when you wound up getting in over your head in battle… and as you did more times than you can remember when the same happened to you as a Charmander. Except this time you have wings which you crane around to try and shield your head, shuddering from your encounter.
You're pretty sure Charizard aren’t supposed to do that either. You feel a hand patting at your snout and look up to see your trainer. He looks obviously disappointed, but doesn’t say much other than to make sure that you’re alright before going off to meet a human woman with green hair dressed in some sort of orange tracksuit. The Garchomp’s trainer, and the human that you’re pretty sure you just lost your trainer a decent chunk of pocket money to.
The two trainers meet in the center of the battlefield and exchange money and a few items. You follow after yours, and the Garchomp after hers. You try to avoid eye contact with your Dragon-type opponent, but you couldn’t miss her unamused scowl if you tried.
“Hrmph, next time, don’t run your mouth off looking for a challenge if you can’t back it up,” she scoffs. “‘Might of a dragon’, what a crock! Even if Charizard were dragons, what sort of dragon would act like you?”
You hang your head at her words. You don’t have an answer to that question.
About an hour later, you’re out of your Pokéball and in the backroom of a Pokécenter, getting a few lingering scrapes that the machines couldn’t treat touched up. Sinnoh is a distant land for you and your trainer, but in some respects, it’s an awful lot like your home region of Kanto. The Pokémon here by and large speak the same language you do. And the humans do likewise with the humans of Kanto. They even have human nurses and the Chansey in the Pokécenters here that look about the same and tend to Pokémon about the same as the ones in Kanto.
“All patched up and back to normal,” the Chansey presently at your side tells you. “You should be good to go and ready to battle again after a day’s rest.”
“Th-Thanks, I guess.”
Back in Kanto, you might have puffed yourself out to make yourself look stronger and tougher in front of such humans and Pokémon. Except… even with the familiar trappings, you’re not in the mood for it right now. Not after the way you humiliated yourself in front of your trainer today. You’re sure that you bitterly disappointed him, but you don’t want to think about that too much right now. At this point, you’re of half a mind to retreat back into your Pokéball and its simulated environments until your trainer is done traveling around Sinnoh and you can just go home.
After the Chansey beckons you to come along with her human, you shuffle off alongside them for the front desk, your head held low as the events of the battle keep playing over and over in your head. It was the first one since evolving where you’d been worried about how it’d go at the outset, but you were supposed to have left that sort of skittishness behind as a Charizard.
Sure, it’d be forgivable for a Pokémon of your lower forms, especially when younger. You supposed that it wasn’t that uncommon for a Charmander to cry after being startled and to try to hide away when he was afraid… like you had done on more occasions than you could remember. You supposed that costing one’s human a Gym Challenge after throwing up from fright and fleeing the battlefield like you did the first time you faced down Brock’s Onix wasn’t a common experience for Charmeleon, but it was at least understandable. O-Onix were gigantic compared to Charmeleon! Even if they often weren’t as tough as they seemed, they looked downright terrifying, especially for Pokémon the size of a young human child whose fire struggled against them.
B-But those were Charmander and Charmeleon, you’re a Charizard now. Charizard are supposed to be big and strong! Noble creatures brave enough to face any challenge to the bitter end! So why, when you found yourself outmatched, did you still react like you so often had as a Charmander or Charmeleon when you felt overwhelmed?
Before you know it, the Chansey and the human nurse take you past the front desk where you spot your trainer in the waiting room. You stiffen up and grimace a moment, before turning your head away with a low whine. There weren’t a whole lot of other ways that you could’ve embarrassed yourself and your trainer worse than you had today. How could he not be disappointed that all this time later, even when you were supposed to be big and strong, that you were still the same cowardly lizard at heart?
You brace yourself for the scolding and frustrated chewout that you’re rightfully due, except… it doesn’t come. You feel a pat at your neck and hear your trainer’s words, turning up to see him looking down at you with a regretful expression. You don’t follow everything he says to you, but he sounds… apologetic? For forcing you to deal with more than you were ready for?
You don’t know what to make of that. Other than that your trainer clearly doesn’t know enough about Charizard. Why else would he just be so unbothered by a pathetic failure like the one you had earlier today?
Your trainer tugs at your shoulder and motions off at the hallway where the rooms for travelers to lodge in this Pokécenter are. He must be in the mood to get some rest, and you can’t say you don’t agree with him. Tomorrow will be a brand-new day, one where you can put today’s failures behind you.
Hopefully.
You follow your human and pass the front entrance, when it suddenly comes alive with a soft chime. You turn your head towards it after feeling a blast of cold air and immediately stiffen up at the sight:
It’s the Garchomp and her trainer from earlier walking in.
You let out a quiet squeak and hurriedly shuffle your trainer along, but not before you overhear the Dragon-type growling under her breath about how frigid things feel outside. … The air from outside did feel a bit cold today, colder than you would’ve expected for a region that was supposed to be in its spring season.
… Maybe you won’t go into your Pokéball just yet. After a day like today, the least you can do to try and make things up to your trainer is to help keep the cold at bay for him.
The next morning, you and your trainer wake up, pack up your things, and step out of your cramped room in the Pokécenter into the hallway. Your trainer didn’t say anything about feeling cold when he woke up, so that’s a relief. You don’t know how you’d feel right now if you’d managed to fail at simply keeping him warm overnight.
The two of you make your way down the hallway and retrace your steps back to the Pokécenter’s lobby. You take a moment to stretch your wings and your limbs with a yawn to get your blood flowing and groggily paw at your eyes. It’s then that you notice that something is very wrong. All along the windows outside, you can see frost caked against the glass and icy flurries swirling over white drifts as far as your eyes can see. You blink to make sure you’re not dreaming, and quickly realize that you’re seeing…
“S-Snow?! B-But it’s supposed to be the first month of spring!”
You stand there with your mouth hanging agape, as one of the Chansey who works here happens to pass by with her human nurse and turns to you with a click of her tongue.
“Not from around here, are you?” she asks. “Cold snaps in early spring are as Sinnohan as a Mild Poffin!”
… You will have to take her word for it, since you haven’t had any Poffins in this region yet. But the Normal-type seems to be onto something. Most of the trainers with Pokémon that aren’t common to this region seem to have gotten caught unawares by the sudden cold. … Though the weather surely has to be abnormal to some extent, since even a handful of trainers with Pokémon from this region seem to have been blindsided by the overnight snow.
“You’re kidding me. One night and this is what I wake up to?”
Including the Garchomp from yesterday and her trainer. The Dragon-type stares out the window and grimaces with visible dread, as does her human. You glance over briefly at the pair and stiffen up after the Garchomp notices you from the corner of her eye, and she turns to you with a toothy frown.
“Oh, it’s you again. I see your trainer didn’t pack for this weather either.”
You cast a glance over at your trainer and see that he too is wincing at the sight of the frost and the flurries outside. A quick look over his clothes reveals you that his shirt today is short-sleeved and visibly thin. Right. He had been planning his trip around there being spring weather in Sinnoh, and he had already remarked on it being a little chilly on a few prior days. You could handle a little cold with your tail flame and the fire in your belly to keep you warm, but humans didn’t have either of those and needed their ‘clothing’ to help them deal with such weather.
You go up to the window and peer through it as your breath fogs up the glass. You rub the condensation away, when amidst the snow and the flurries, you spot a small shop with icons in the shape of human clothing down the street. You go over and tug at your trainer and point it out, who in turn does the same to the Garchomp’s trainer. You let the pair talk things over with each other in their tongue as you make your way to the door, and the Garchomp does a double-take at you.
“Wait, what are you doing?”
“I’m going to help my trainer get proper clothes, what else?” you explain. “He’ll freeze if he tries to go around in snowy weather like this!”
The Garchomp cocks a brow, before turning her snout up with an unimpressed snort.
“Whatever, it’s your burial out there.”
For a moment, you waver at the Garchomp’s retort. She is the native to this region. Does she know something about these snows that you don’t? You bite your tongue and hesitate when you hear your trainer calling out for you and see that he’s already made his way to the door.
You falter briefly. Are you in danger now? There’s not something wrong with the snow outside, is there? A few worries circle around in your mind and you find yourself pulling your wings and tail tight against yourself, when you see your trainer waiting for you at the door.
No. Even if you’re worried about what’s out there, you can’t back down here. Not while your friend needs you.
You shake your head and make your way forward. No matter what those snows hold outside, you aren’t going to let your trainer face them alone. And you wouldn’t have needed to be a Charizard to come to that decision.
You make your way to the doors and feel the icy air blow in your face. You see your trainer visibly shiver and pull him to your side and under your wing as he grows a bit more comfortable and suck in a sharp breath.
“It’s just down the street. It’s just down the street.”
And so, with wary, faltering footsteps, you set off into the winter cold together. Your partner clasped firmly at your side.
Fifteen minutes later, you return to the Pokécenter lobby along with your trainer freshly garbed in winter wear, with a second set extra, to boot. Your trainer passes it along to the Garchomp’s and then the pair exchange money.
…That was what the Garchomp was so worried about? Why, from the way she talked about the snows, you thought there were going to be ghosts or monsters hiding in the drifts to ambush you!
Your moment of satisfaction is cut short when you notice your scales feel damp, and look to see water on them from melted snow that you weren’t able to get off before coming inside. You take a moment to try and brush it off with your claws when you see a hand join in to help you. You blink and follow the arm over to see your trainer looking at you as his hand moves to your shoulder and he gives you an affectionate pat and opens his mouth to speak.
…He’s thanking you. For looking out for him back there.
You stare at him for a moment as he goes off to the counter to check out. You… didn’t think that you really did anything special back there, but at the same time, you can’t help but feel a hint of pride.
That’s when it dawns on you.
All this time, you and your human have gotten as far as you have by looking out for each other when one or the other stumbled or was weak. It was your trainer that calmed you down when you were scared, the one who helped you work up the bravery to eventually best opponents you were afraid of in battle—like Brock’s Onix. And you were there to look out for him at times like these when he just needed a bit of extra strength… or a warm body to help him stand up to the cold.
“... How on earth can you just be okay with that awful weather out there?”
You turn to your right and see the Garchomp staring at you slack jawed. She… honestly still scares you, but you don’t flinch from her this time. Seeing the way she shrinks away from a little bit of snow and treats it like it’s death incarnate helps put things in perspective.
You suppose that in a way, the Garchomp was right yesterday. You aren’t a dragon, or at least not in the same way she is. But… for the things that really count in life, does it matter?
And so with a shaky, flustered grin, you speak up and answer her.
“It’s because I’m not a dragon like you, and I don’t know if I ever will be. But I’m sure like a dragon for my friends.”
Original Drabble:
Charizard
Cute but Ferocious
Flapple
Dragons' Lineage
Goomy
A Dragon Someday
Ekans
Flightless
Exeggutor
You skid back along the ground as a wintery chill fills the air, panting frightenedly as you hear a bellowing roar. Your tail fire burns fierce, not with determination, but from fright, as your quivering wings remind you, as the Garchomp dives at you.
Your claws abruptly erupt with green dragonfire, as you rake the Garchomp and drive her back as you try to think where on earth things went wrong. Was it when you grew nervous about being a stranger in a distant land and tried to puff yourself up? Was it you letting your last evolution from about a month ago get to your head, making you think that those days of cowering from a big and scary-feeling world were over?
“Have at you!”
You look up just in time to see the Garchomp dive at you wreathed in dragonfire. You feel burning pain—Charizard aren’t supposed to feel burning pain—as the world spins around you and you flop into the dirt. You lay there stunned for a moment, when you feel yourself get pinned and see a flash of claws and razor-like teeth above you.
“AAAAAAAH!”
You’re pretty sure that Charizard aren’t supposed to scream at that octave. Nor are they supposed to beg for mercy like you find yourself doing. The Garchomp hesitates a moment when she heeds a human voice and lets go of you.
You don’t bother to wait to find out if the battle’s been decided or not. You scrabble to your feet, and over to a young human man waiting for you at your end of the field. You duck behind him with a low whine, much as you had when things went wrong as a Charmeleon, and more times than you can remember when the same happened to you as a Charmander. Except this time you have wings which you crane around to try and shield your head.
You're pretty sure Charizard aren’t supposed to do that either. You feel pats at your snout and look down to see your trainer. He’s obviously disappointed, but doesn’t say much other than to make sure that you’re alright before going off to meet a human woman with green hair with an orange suit. The Garchomp’s trainer, and the human that you’re pretty sure you just lost your trainer a chunk of pocket money to.
The two trainers meet in the center and exchange a few money and items. You follow after yours, and the Garchomp after hers. You try to avoid eye contact with her, but you can see her scowling at you
“Hrmph, next time, don’t run your mouth off for a challenge if you can’t back it up,” the Garchomp scoffs. “‘Might of a dragon’, what a crock! Even if Charizard were dragons, what sort of dragon would act like you?”
You hang your head at the Garchomp’s words. You don’t have an answer to the question.
About an hour later, you’re in the backroom of a Pokécenter, getting a few lingering scrapes that the machines couldn’t treat touched up. Sinnoh is a distant land for you and your trainer, but in some respects, it feels an awful lot like your home back in Kanto. The Pokémon by and large speak the same language. As do the humans. They even have human nurses and the Chansey that look about the same and work the same as they do in Kanto.
“All patched up and back to normal,” the Chansey tells you. “You should be good to go and ready to battle after a day’s rest.”
“Th-Thanks, I guess.”
And back in Kanto, you might have puffed yourself out to make yourself look stronger and tougher. Except… it was hard seeing much of a point of doing now. You didn’t want to think about that too much, and just go back into your Pokéball until your trainer was done traveling around Sinnoh and you could go home.
You shuffled off for the front as the events of the battle kept playing over and over for you. It was the first one since evolving where you’d been worried at the outset, but you were supposed to have left that behind as a Charizard.
You supposed that it wasn’t that uncommon for a Charmander to cry and try to hide when they were afraid like you had done on more occasions than you could remember. You supposed that throwing up out of fright and costing your trainer a Gym Challenge by fleeing the battlefield like you did the first time you faced down Brock’s Onix wasn’t common for Charmeleon, but it was at least understandable. Onix were gigantic compared to Charmeleon, and even if they often weren’t as tough as they looked, they looked downright terrifying when you were the size of a young human child and your fire struggled against them.
B-But Charizard were supposed to be big and strong! To face any challenge to the bitter end! So why when you found himself outmatched, why did you still find himself reacting like you had so often as a Charmander or Charmeleon when you felt overwhelmed?
You pass the front desk and spot your trainer. You stiffen up and wince a moment, before turning your head away with a low whine. There weren’t a whole lot of other ways that you could’ve embarrassed yourself worse than you had today. How could he not be disappointed that all this time later, you were still the same cowardly lizard at heart?
Except, you feel a pat at your neck and hear your trainer speak to you. You don’t follow all of the words in his tongue, but he sounds… apologetic? For forcing more than you were prepared for?
You don’t know what to make of that. Other than that your trainer clearly didn’t know enough about Charizard. Why else would he just be unbothered by a pathetic failure like the one you had earlier today.
Your trainer tugs at you and motions off at the hallway where the lodging in the Pokécenter is. You follow along past the door and stiffen up after seeing the Garchomp and her trainer walk in, the Dragon-type growling under her breath about how frigid things feel outside.
You hurry along with a quiet squeak and hurriedly shuffle your trainer along. The air from outside did feel a bit cold. Maybe you won’t go into your Pokéball just yet. After a day like today, the least you can do to try and make things up to your trainer is to try and keep the cold at bay.
The next day, you and your trainer wake up and leave your cramped room in the Pokécenter. Your trainer doesn’t say anything about feeling cold, which you find relieving. You don’t know how you’d feel if you managed to fail at that overnight.
The two of you make your steps back to the lobby, as you stretch and bat your wings in the hallway to get your blood flowing. You paw at your eyes, and you immediately notice something wrong. All along the windows outside, you can see frost and white flurries, as you realize that it’s…
“S-Snow?! B-But it’s supposed to be the first month of spring!”
You stand there with your mouth agape, as one of the Chansey that work here happens to pass by with her human nurse and turns to you with a click of her tongue.
“Not from around here, are you?” she asks. “Cold snaps in early spring are as Sinnohan as a Mild Poffin!”
… You will have to take her word for it, since you haven’t had any Poffins in this region yet. But the Normal-type seems to be onto something. Most of the trainers with Pokémon that aren’t common to this region seem to have gotten caught unawares by the sudden cold. As have a handful of trainers with Pokémon from this region.
“You’re kidding me. One night and this is what I wake up to?”
Including the Garchomp and her trainer. The Dragon-type stares out the window grimacing with visible dread, an expression that her trainer seems to mimic. You glance over briefly and stiffen up after the Garchomp notices you from the corner of her eye, and turns with a toothy frown.
“Oh, it’s you again. I see your trainer didn’t pack for this weather either.”
You cast a glance over at your trainer and see that he too is grimacing at the sight of the frost and the flurries outside. Right. He had been planning his trip around there being spring weather in Sinnoh. You could handle a little cold with your tail flame and the fire in your belly, but humans certainly didn’t have those.
You go up to the window and peer through it, your breath fogging up the glass. You rub it away, when amidst the snow and the flurries, you spot a small shop with icons in the shape of human clothing. You go over and tug at your trainer, who points it out to the Garchomp’s trainer. You let the pair talk things over with each other as you make your way to the door, and the Garchomp does a double-take at you.
“Wait, what are you doing?”
“Going over to help my trainer get proper clothes, what else?” you explain. “He’ll freeze if he tries to travel in this weather like this!”
The Garchomp cocks a brow, before turning her snout up with an unimpressed snort.
“Whatever, it’s your burial out there.”
For a moment, you waver at the Garchomp’s retort. She is the native. Does she know something about these snows that you don’t? Your trainer makes his way to the door, and calls for you.
You hesitate briefly, before shaking your head and making your way forward. No matter what those snows hold, you aren’t going to let your trainer face them alone. And you wouldn’t have to be a Charizard to conclude that.
And so you make your way to the doors, and feel the icy air blow in your face. You see your trainer visibly shiver and pull him to your side and under your wing and suck in a sharp breath.
“It’s just down the street. It’s just down the street.”
And so, you set off into the winter cold together. Your partner firmly at your side.
Fifteen minutes later, you have returned along with your trainer freshly garbed in winter wear, with a second set extra to boot. Your trainer passes it along to the Garchomp’s and the pair exchange money as you brush some water off your scales from melted snow. When you feel a pat at your shoulder and look down at your trainer.
… He’s thanking you. For looking out for him back there.
You stare at him for a moment as he goes off to the counter to check out and can’t help but feel a hint of pride, when it dawns on you.
All this time, you two have gotten as far as you had by looking out for each other when you were weak or stumbled. It was your trainer that calmed you down when you were scared, who helped you work up the bravery to eventually best Brock’s Onix in battle. And you were there to look out for him at times like these when he just needed a warm body to help stand and shield him.
“... How on earth can you just be okay with that awful weather?”
You turn to your right and see the Garchomp staring at you slack jawed. She… honestly still scares you, but you don’t flinch this time. Seeing the way she flinches from a little snow helps put things in perspective.
You suppose that in a way the Garchomp was right yesterday. You aren’t a dragon, or at least not in the same sense as her. But… for the things that really count, does it matter?
And with a shaky, flustered grin, you speak up and answer her.
“Because I’m not a dragon like you, and I don’t know if I ever will be. But I’m sure like one for my friends.”
Hey, here after some well-timed self-shilling! This is such a fun concept for an anthology. From Gen I, 'dragon' has always been a nebulous category (cough, Lance and his pseudo-dragons) and since then, the world of dragons has gotten even weirder and more wonderful. Though . . . I do believe you've omitted the most majestic dragon of them all . . . alolan exeggutor! Please let me know if you ever rectify this error.
1. A Guarding Dragon
Flapple with an apple hoard! It's a very cute thought and a fun twist on the traditional image of a dragon. I liked the sense that flapple have worked with this orchard for a long time. I was a little confused about whether the road-side stand is basically a shop that operates on the honor system, or has some kind of a charity element. The language about the owners having set aside apples to do this for centuries suggests the latter, but the fixed payment and sign suggest the former.
2. A Dragon's Ferocity
This one had a bit of a more humorous feel! I think you made a smart choice setting it from the hydreigon's POV. We get a lot of standard draconic arrogance and indignation that this ampharos dares challenge them . . . arrogance that shrivels up and dies pretty quickly once the battle commences. The ending lines in particular felt very chastened.
This oneshot seemed to carry on the theme of dragons as protectors, as well as the idea of dragons working in tandem with humans.
3. A Dragon's Lineage
Okay, so you've found my secret weakness and it is very good sneks. Particularly, the dratini line. I am a bit enamored with the image of awkward dragonair dad raising his baby ekans--it's a pity there's no art. This one explores the human-pokemon relationship in a new way, this time considering what freedoms living in human society might grant pokemon--inter-species relationships and the ability to raise their kids in new ways. I was intrigued by the differences in how arbok and the dragonite line raise their kids, and both Arbok and Dragonair's anxieties about what having a child would mean--being a good mom when your species normally yeets the moment the kid is born, being a good dad when your kid doesn't look like you--felt real. I expect their kid will eventually have some sort of dragon identity crisis--just normal teenage things! I wonder if having an ekans kid would influence whether the dragonair ever feels the urge to evolve one more time. That change takes on a whole new kind of significance when you'd be going from a nice serpentine form, perfect for snake cuddles, to be a big winged dragon. I really hadn't thought much before about all the issues an inter-species family might face, but there sure are plenty. This snake family is going to live rent free in my head from now on--I believe in them!
Turffield had always been a quiet, humble town, its rhythms dictated by the growth and harvests of the nurturing bowl formed by its many terraced farming fields.
This sentence tripped me up a bit--there's quite a lot of words piled on, but the point made is a pretty simple one. Perhaps, "Turffield had always been a quiet town, its rhythms dictated by the surrounding farms and their harvests."
Bit of a tense issue here--think added should be add. You might want to revise the double 'before.' You could easily cut the 'before he fled' clause--that additional context doesn't really add any information, since we know it from the word 'abandoned'.
Finding hunting grounds was a challenge for any dragon, especially one with an appetite as big as yours. Though that came with the territory of being a Pokémon of your kind: one the gods had given the strength to make the world tremble before their three heads, at the cost of them needing to be ever fed. As such, Hydreigon had to have a nose for finding grounds that would sate that hunger, even if it meant looking in unlikely places.
Maybe, "Finding hunting grounds was a challenge for any dragon, and especially so for hydreigon. Long ago, the gods gave your kind the power to make the world tremble, but that power had its price: three-heads, ever hungry. Luckily, the gods also gifted you a good nose for finding hunting grounds."
You look down at the ground at the silhouette of your wings over the treetops to make sure that you’re not dreaming: green, rolling plains just beyond the forest.
These fields were supposed to be tended to by humans, and it was said that as balance to the toll of tooth and claw the gods allowed Pokémon to take on humans that interfered in their affairs, that they saw it fit to allow humans to similarly punish Pokémon that interfered with theirs… and of those of the Pokémon that made cause with them.
This paragraph was a bit jumbled. I think the idea is that because pokemon can attack humans that interfere with them, which is called the 'toll of tooth and claw,' humans can do the same when pokemon interfere in their affairs. It might benefit from being written out a bit more, rather than compressed into one sentence. I am curious what the 'toll of tooth and claw' is and what it means to be allowed to punish anyone here.
They are said to quake in fear at the sight of your kind, even the ones who left the wild to den among them. Your kind by contrast, has stories in both your and their folklore of your kind’s mightier individuals laying waste to their villages.
I'm not sure how the second set on stories are in contrast to the first set--they seem to show the same idea, that hydreigon are scary to humans and dominate them.
When you finish them off, you will be rewarded with a fill of succulent and still-tender meat. The just reward the gods are said to give to hunters that do not revel not in the fear and pain of their prey and quickly finish them off.
You’re not going to tempt fate and you’re going to put a healthy distance between you and that accursed Ampharos. There was a lake you spotted north of here about fifteen minutes ago by flying: you’re going to go there, lick your wounds, and try your luck fishing for Basculin.
The hissing voice that reaches your ears and prompt you to give a quick turn of your head to your left, reveals an Arbok staring worriedly down at you, giving an unconscious waggle of her tail back and forth. She is your partner, the two of you both under the same human. And... she is also your mate.
Very cool. Lots of underutilized things going on, even before we get to the story. I like how the flapple notes that, yes, this is a small hoard. They don’t have angst over it. Is THEIR hoard, which makes it important. Important enough to have whole lineages devoted to defending the apples and coins throughout the centuries.
I love xeno priorities.
The initial / final reaction to the flapple reminds me a lot of another small-ish venom-spitting reptile in pop culture. Don’t think it’s intentional, but still funny.
I also like the tradition established here, that help is given to traveling trainers. Has a vibe of Sacred Hospitality that seems to underpin the whole setting but tends to be omitted from fic because it isn’t explicit.
*
A Dragon’s Ferocity
Oh, cool, double dragons. Never have been quite sure why ampharos are dragons. None of the other sheep are. Barely any mammals are. But they are all the same. Somehow.
You know I love my hydreigon and hate to read about one losing. Because even with dragon pulse and a stupid high special attack stat… actually, yeah, I can see that outcome happening if the first strike doesn’t kill. The hydreigon should have gone for the head.
The story does hint at a real problem for IRL apex predators: pastures have replaced the wild lands that used to house their prey. Probably goes double in a world where guard animals can go toe-to-toe with the predators and win. What I’m getting at is that the hydreigon should have been allowed some mareep as a treat. For justice. It does fit with a smaller theme here, though, about dragons having gone from village-razing threats to actual livestock or wild predators unable to even conquer a farm. Very sad. The humans should have their villages razed.
*
A Dragon’s Lineage
I’m going to be honest, when I read the colors and the wings in the protag’s description I thought they were a dunsparce. I was really disappointed when I figured out they were a dragonair.
But I suppose dragonair are fine. Better than their evolution, at least.
I like a lot of things going on here. The wild v. captive cultural tensions, the protagonist still having a lot of internalized issues they’re trying to work through, and interspecies conflicts in childrearing. Makes you wish there was a pokémon couples therapist. Honestly that could be a hilarious or poignant fic depending on what direction the author took it in. Maybe both.
I’m now imagining a male ariados or scyther who is furious that their mate refuses to eat them. It’s good for the baby, damn it!
Also cool to see a portrayal of nature that focuses on mothers who aren’t at all involved in their kid’s childhood. And how that would play in to being asked to actually *raise* their kid. Like an overly attached weirdo.
*
A Dragon’s Savior
Goomy!
I’m curious if seviper would actually eat them. Goomy’s main survival mechanism has always been ‘be disgusting / inedible to predators” in my head. But maybe the seviper is Kalosian and would happily slurp down some escargot. Let’s go with that. This isn’t really important and this paragraph is only here because review blitz is making me say words, even if I would ordinarily leave them out as superfluous.
There’s a sentence about the Goomy trying to rest that implies that is difficult because… they’ve almost fallen asleep. Isn’t that how rest works? A line about needing to stay vigilant would be nice here.
Is the Exeggutor fast enough to warrant the use of “barrels in?” I imagine they just took the pinsir by surprise.
But you need a shaded place to rest, and no bush on this island has carries sort of power your unexpected guardian just wielded.
I liked this. Not often you get to portray dragons as prey, so this was a cool change of pace. You use the word “rhythms” in a similar way that you did in the hydreigon / ampharos one. Is that just a word Pokémon use to describe their behavior? Or is it somehow religious for dragons.
*
A Dragon Someday
Now, your attention drifts back to the scene at the house where your mark is seated on patio furniture near an overlook of the sea: a man in white hair in a black suit…”
I think the description of Steven should read “a white-haired man in a black suit”
Steven is surprisingly chill here. And metagross are depicted as properly scary predators. That’s always cool to see, especially in a fic about all the other (non-tyranitar) pseudos. And I like how you acknowledge the “grovyle who lost their partner tries to steal important objects” parallel. And subtly enough that even if you haven’t played those games your understanding wouldn’t be entirely derailed.
I also liked how little everything in the human law enforcement world made sense from a xeno perspective. When traveling trainers beat up someone’s Pokémon and take their money, that’s fine. When his trainer does it, that’s robbery. Very arbitrary. Very unfair.
The discussion of alternatives to Pokémon jail was also cool. I feel like I’ve never really seen that explored before, beyond maybe a mention of putting dangerous Pokémon down.
*
A Flightless Dragon
Are the unfamiliar creatures the trainer has figures of digimon? I’m afraid I don’t know much about that franchise. Can’t think of what else it would be.
This was really sweet. I found myself grinning for the back half and am kind of sad the anthology is almost over. Certainly a great penultimate entry.
To start with, bagon jumping off of things has always been one of the funniest parts of the lore for me. It’s good to see it here, especially in the context of how much a trainer would have to work around it. Like having a two year old that seems to want to get hurt while exploring, except the two year old is also a dragon.
The little worldbuilding on Pokémon healthcare is also cool. In general I love how you weave in worldbuilding into these entries in ways that doesn’t feel forced, just a natural extension of the story. It’s making me come around on story based anthologies as a way of fleshing out a coherent world.
Also, far and away the most creative use I’ve ever seen for a held item. 10/10 job. This bagon flies better than Southwest.
*
A Dragon’s Valor
It took me several days to get back to this after the last entry. Maybe it was because I didn’t want it to be over.
Or maybe it’s because I was sick and exhausted. Who can say?
I am now imagining this match from the garchomp’s perspective. Get into a friendly bout, the opposing dragon practically pisses themself and hides behind a human. Is that when you realize that you’ve made it?
This was really cute, though. Always a sucker for The Power Of Friendship played straight, and the garchomp being a little unnerved by the charizard at the end is perfection. I imagine in the wild garchomp (and the other quad weak dragons) probably retreat into a cave and go into brumation.
And onix are very scary, charizard. Nothing to be ashamed of.
Oh? A flapple short? I love the concept of this collection already. Such an underused mon, yet there’s so much there to be expanded upon. A flapple as a guardian of an orchard?
I’ve seen you describe some of your stuff on discord and the forum before, but conceptually it’s all such a great idea. You’re really good at coming up with ideas like this that fascinate me.
I think those were Team Yell goofs, which fits with their “we’re insufferable idiots” vibe that the SwSh story gave me.
I love the parallels to traditional fairytale dragons that you featured in this short. Yes, it’s a cute little worm-dragon inhabiting an apple-like shell, but it’s still a goddamn dragon protecting its hoard. It’s also not explicitly bad, like most fairytale dragons.
I really really liked this! It’s short and sweet, you did a great job at setting the scene and delivering a complete story despite the small word count! If all the shorts are this good, I’m going to enjoy Like a Dragon very much.
A Dragon’s Ferocity
Ooo a hydreigon short next!
I love the clear superiority that hydreigon possesses. Yes, it knows that it probably shouldn’t fuck with the humans. But at the same time, it’s a hydreigon, what are they really gonna be able to do to it? And hydreigon, for its own part, knows this. Excellent job at displaying the mental processes of this pokemon and telling me exactly who it is in a single short blurb.
And DAMN, the actual attack on the mareep is appropriately brutal. Vicious and violent and everything hydreigon ought to be.
Oh? Is this… a stealth ampharos entry as well?
HELL YEAH AMPHY
I friggin love ampharos, to the point where I’ve included one across a few of the fics I’ve written. Best electric type imo. I’m only slightly disappointed that it didn’t mega evolve, but it still dragon pulse’d just fine.
Nice touch having hydreigon admit through the narrative that it’s both scared and ashamed of that fear. It’s not much, but it’s there when you mention it making the same sound as the mareep and mention twice that it would never admit to making noises like that.
I like the repetition of the opening reference to the verdant fields and the place where prey grow fat and happy. I especially like the change to the passage, reflecting that hydreigon is now afraid of those verdant fields and the ampharos that protects them.
I really liked how animalistic this one was. Very brutal, just like the mon whose POV we are in.
A Dragon's Lineage
Off the bat, I like the opening. It’s a good look at some of the things that a pokemon might find strange about humans.
I also like how quick and to the point it was. Three paragraphs and you give us the entire crux of the story.
It’s also a nice look at a concept that the games just kinda used as an obscure mechanic. Cross-species coupling is something that seems weird, but it does have a basis in reality. It’s presented as really sweet here, with the dragonair having chosen his own mate due to his past with other dragons.
Love the nod to how animals basically are born and ready to go the moment they’re out and about. Nice touch as well to have Arbok not feel capable of being a mother due to a distinct lack of motherly instincts.
I hadn’t really ever put much thought into how a father might feel about a child that isn’t even the same species as it. That would be very tough to deal with, being essentially different than your own offspring in ways that make you completely unable to relate to them.
I’m unsure about a pokemon’s growth curve, but having a literal newborn be able to speak seems… idk maybe I’m just equating humans to fantasy creatures that are based on animals who function with no parental guidance at all.
An adorably sweet ending! I love good fatherhood and that’s an amazing sweet example of it!
A Dragon's Savior
You threw me for a loop. I couldn’t figure out what mon it was until about halfway through the second paragraph.
This seems so… terrifying. Like, the goomy seems like it’s sure it’s going to die.
I like the POV in this one especially. The fear is pervasive throughout the narrative and it colours everything in that terrified light.
Then we get a shot of real terror. Goomy is absolutely useless, so it’s real and not forced. What the hell is a goomy supposed to do against anything, much less an angry pinsir.
I like the little quirks of biology that you’ve been making use of in these. Of course goomy can flatten itself into the ground almost completely, it’s basically a sentient dragon puddle.
The mental image of a sentient puddle flinging itself off a cliff while being chased by a murder-beetle is not embedded in my brain. It shouldn’t be funny (it’s actually terrifying because pinsir are), but the fact that it’s a puddle is.
I love the immediate shift once the exeggutor saves goomy. The prose and the narrative no longer have that terrified feel to it. Instead, it’s… relaxed in the presence of this “noble“ dragon. As well, I love the reverence that the prose displays towards the exeggutor. Its a great touch!
And the final scene, is a welcome shift from the fear that filled so much of the fic. It’s happy and comforted, and the prose itself seems to relax knowing that it’s safe. A great little one shot, I’m really enjoying these little peeks into the lives of random pokemon.
A Dragon Someday
Absolutely fantastic job setting this one up. Also, a thief‘s pokemon? Great concept here. Grovyle also fits perfectly as the somewhat immoral thief character.
Is… is he trying to rob Steven? Of a Mega Stone? Damn, going straight for the hardest choice. Grass V Steel definitely won’t end well, let alone a grovyle who seems to be missing his trainer?
Oh, the trainer was definitely arrested or something. So the grovyle is trying to steal a sceptilite to get him back or something. Very very interesting concept.
I wonder how nice of a trainer he actually was, given that he’s likely locked up or something. I wonder if it’s a sort of “rose coloured glasses” situation where the pokemon is looking back and remembering a situation fonder than it actually was.
Aaaaand that seems almost like it’s kinda what’s going on. The trainer was definitely a thief. But I don’t get the sense that grovyle understands at all what that entails. It seems almost like grovyle didn’t really look at it like stealing, or like it doesn’t understand what stealing as a concept is?
I almost get the sense that the trainer purposely didn’t train grovyle to understand what was going on. Like… the other pokemon after grovyle is captured seem to understand humans and understand what’s going on, but he doesn’t. He still loves his trainer, to the lengths that he’s willing to fight for him.
It does seem sincere though, once we end the flashback. Grovyle seems to really miss his trainer and actively want him back. Perhaps he didn’t mistreat his pokemon and was just… a thief. Without knowing too much about the trainer, I’ll actually reserve judgement on him.
We distinctly don’t know the background here, so all we’re left with is Grovyle’s biased narration. The trainer could be a good guy in a bad situatio, or coerced into the path he was on. Or he could have just been a decent enough trainer that didn’t care to extend his treatment of his pokemon to other people.
His parents are seemingly embarrassed of him though, and try to pretend he doesn’t exist anymore. I really sympathize with Grovyle here. That would be traumatic as hell, his only vestiges of his trainer essentially pretending that his only family didn’t exist. He brushes it off in his rush, but I’d bet this affects him greater than he lets on in the narrative.
Odd that Grovyle is gambling on these rocks quite so hard. It seems an excessive risk, but
I love that Grovyle is smart enough to know that he stands absolutely no chance against Steven and Metagross. He absolutely doesn’t and would last moments in a straight up fight. I like the little joke of Steven’s obsession with rocks slipped in.
Ah that’s definitely not sceptilite. Right as shits hitting the fan. I wonder how this will go, but I kinda doubt Steven is gonna be all that punishment happy about it. He doesn’t seem the type.
OH SHIT MAYBE METAGROSS IS THE TYPE TO PUNISH
“Grovyle the Thief” being a children’s story seems very appropriate for this setting.
Grovyle’s fear here that Metagross is going to literally eat him seems like it’s another example of his trainer not exactly teaching him about the world. It almost seems like he was purposely misleading Grovyle a bit, at least to solidify his own hold on the young pokemon.
I didn’t think Steven would go all murder happy on a little Grovyle. Good boy Steven, good boy.
I didnt think that was a sceptilite. He accidentally grabbed the metagrossite. Calling it here, he’s gonna trade it for his mega stone. Maybe his partner’s freedom, but I don’t think Steven would actually do that.
And then they trade and Grovyle gets to leave. It’s a sombre and yet determined ending. He can’t even use the sceptilite without a trainer, but he’s so determined to get his family back.
I really really like this one. Partly because Steven, but also because the perspective of a “bad guy” pokemon. Really really excellent work here.
A Flightless Dragon
If this isn’t a Bagon, I’ll eat my hat.
Lol. I love stubborn, flightless bagon. It’s such a fun trope, and seeing a story from that POV should be interesting.
I love the absolute determination in the prose. Bagon is so completely certain that it should be flying. It’s a funny attitude and definitely the kind of pride that a dragon as mighty as this should have!
Attaboy, Bagon! Jump out the damn window! You got thi—
Well shit. Did Marl roll down a hill or something? That seems damn unfortunate. Although, I seriously doubt that it’s going to stop this Bagon from attempting to fly again as soon as that leg is better.
Awwww I love how much Roy cares about Marl. He’s such a good big brother Wartortle.
Aaaaand they’re promptly going to just leave him alone? I get that he can’t really move, but… he’s gonna try to fly again, even with the broken leg.
Awwww no he just gets so sad instead. That’s sooooo sad I’m honestly so sad for poor Marl.
They got him a balloon!!!! Awwww yeah hell yeah Roy and Calvin coming through! He gets to fly!!!!
HELL YEAH MARL YOU GET TO FLY!!!
This is so wholesome and cute and I LOVE it. I love that it helps Marl feel better I love how happy and lightweight this one feels. This is a great little collection of stories in different tones and feels.
Damn, it’s much more introspective than I thought. And a nice contrast to the usual ”raging” charizard that you might see.
Not quite what I expected, but I do relate to the confidence issues.
Oh man, a good old shame spiral. Honestly its really understandable. A giant rock snake is terrifying, even if you are a goddamn flying fire breathing dragon.
Oh this is definitely going to play on Charizard being a fire type. The snowstorm? it’s gonna terrify that garchomp, but zard won’t be bothered.
Yup, and it’s played for a really wholesome ending. Charizard here might not be a “dragon”. But she certainly is “Like a Dragon” when it counts (and I love the use of the title in the story lol).
All in all, this is a fantastic collection of shorts and I can’t recommend this enough to anyone who likes dragons (no matter what they look like).
Hey, here after some well-timed self-shilling! This is such a fun concept for an anthology. From Gen I, 'dragon' has always been a nebulous category (cough, Lance and his pseudo-dragons) and since then, the world of dragons has gotten even weirder and more wonderful. Though . . . I do believe you've omitted the most majestic dragon of them all . . . alolan exeggutor! Please let me know if you ever rectify this error.
Guess you’ll just have to come back and read more of these one-shots, huh? Since there is indeed an Alolan Exeggutor in one of the one-shots you haven’t read yet.
1. A Guarding Dragon
Flapple with an apple hoard! It's a very cute thought and a fun twist on the traditional image of a dragon. I liked the sense that flapple have worked with this orchard for a long time. I was a little confused about whether the road-side stand is basically a shop that operates on the honor system, or has some kind of a charity element. The language about the owners having set aside apples to do this for centuries suggests the latter, but the fixed payment and sign suggest the former.
It’s meant to be a roadside stand run by “people before pennies” types. I added a couple small tweaks to make that a bit more obvious.
2. A Dragon's Ferocity
This one had a bit of a more humorous feel! I think you made a smart choice setting it from the hydreigon's POV. We get a lot of standard draconic arrogance and indignation that this ampharos dares challenge them . . . arrogance that shrivels up and dies pretty quickly once the battle commences. The ending lines in particular felt very chastened.
Yeah, everybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth, not least of all 600 BST apex predators that probably aren’t used to taking Ls, let alone from creatures they thought might make a good meal.
This oneshot seemed to carry on the theme of dragons as protectors, as well as the idea of dragons working in tandem with humans.
It was actually built from a prompt of “Cute but Ferocious”, but I suppose a Pokémon can get pretty ferocious about looking out for their friends, so those actually work decently well as themes there. ^^
3. A Dragon's Lineage
Okay, so you've found my secret weakness and it is very good sneks. Particularly, the dratini line. I am a bit enamored with the image of awkward dragonair dad raising his baby ekans--it's a pity there's no art. This one explores the human-pokemon relationship in a new way, this time considering what freedoms living in human society might grant pokemon--inter-species relationships and the ability to raise their kids in new ways. I was intrigued by the differences in how arbok and the dragonite line raise their kids, and both Arbok and Dragonair's anxieties about what having a child would mean--being a good mom when your species normally yeets the moment the kid is born, being a good dad when your kid doesn't look like you--felt real. I expect their kid will eventually have some sort of dragon identity crisis--just normal teenage things! I wonder if having an ekans kid would influence whether the dragonair ever feels the urge to evolve one more time. That change takes on a whole new kind of significance when you'd be going from a nice serpentine form, perfect for snake cuddles, to be a big winged dragon. I really hadn't thought much before about all the issues an inter-species family might face, but there sure are plenty. This snake family is going to live rent free in my head from now on--I believe in them!
Well I’m glad that they managed to capture your heart so fast! This one-shot actually came about as a result of running dry on ideas for a standalone prompt about Ekans and one about “Draconic Lineage” that was once upon a time going to be about a Heliolisk taking on learned behaviors from Gible line Pokémon hoarding shinies that similarly had trouble coming up with a plot for that pitch, so I wound up taking a step back and smashing them together after the premise of “similar but different” parents and things just kinda kept going from there into the final product you read.
Might revisit that Heliolisk prompt one day if I ever write another batch of these and get a suitable flash of inspiration.
This sentence tripped me up a bit--there's quite a lot of words piled on, but the point made is a pretty simple one. Perhaps, "Turffield had always been a quiet town, its rhythms dictated by the surrounding farms and their harvests."
Bit of a tense issue here--think added should be add. You might want to revise the double 'before.' You could easily cut the 'before he fled' clause--that additional context doesn't really add any information, since we know it from the word 'abandoned'.
Maybe, "Finding hunting grounds was a challenge for any dragon, and especially so for hydreigon. Long ago, the gods gave your kind the power to make the world tremble, but that power had its price: three-heads, ever hungry. Luckily, the gods also gifted you a good nose for finding hunting grounds."
This paragraph was a bit jumbled. I think the idea is that because pokemon can attack humans that interfere with them, which is called the 'toll of tooth and claw,' humans can do the same when pokemon interfere in their affairs. It might benefit from being written out a bit more, rather than compressed into one sentence. I am curious what the 'toll of tooth and claw' is and what it means to be allowed to punish anyone here.
Basically “eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth” for humans that go off ganking Pokémon in the boonies and vice versa. I did a hotfix tweak of this, but might have to revisit it sometime to draw out the idea a bit more cleanly.
I'm not sure how the second set on stories are in contrast to the first set--they seem to show the same idea, that hydreigon are scary to humans and dominate them.
This is actually a thing in meat production and hunting IRL. I figured that among sapient apex predators, that there would be enough learned wisdom for them to put two and two together, even if their justifications for it might be a bit more on the superstitious side.
The delayed reveal here is odd to me. Why wouldn't Dragonair Dad POV just call his mate his mate?
I flipped the ordering around here to “mate” and then “partner” since that’s a bit of a fair point in terms of the more intimate topic being more likely to come to mind first.
Hello there! Checking these out because they're on the shorter end in terms of chapter length, and I've been meaning to get to the post-beta versions of these one shots anyway.
Well, I’m glad that they were enticing enough to encourage you to come back for a second gander. Since the feedback you gave for the pre-release versions of the one-shots you read helped a lot. ^^
Dragons kind of have a weird place in Pokémon canon, in my opinion. We have dragon Dragon types (ex. Dragonite), dragon non-Dragon types (Charizard, barring Mega Charizard X), and non dragon Dragon-types (Altaria). It's sort of a meme at this point, and while Dragon type jokes are very funny, from a worldbuilding perspective... what does it mean to be a dragon? It's a question that's been on my mind recently because... well, there seem to be a lot of dragon clans across the Pokémon world. Surely there must be something within dragons that speaks to the people of that world.
They’re big, strong, and brave-? Oh wait, most of the cast doesn’t fit that mold, huh? :V
Well, in my eyes, a dragon is, above all, noble. A dragon does what is right simply because it is right. A dragon lies in the spirit, not in one's outward appearance. And I've learned all of that from reading this collection, and more.
A dragon protects their treasure from the selfish. A dragon respects their prey and their enemy. A dragon loves their child no matter how different they may be. A dragon protects the weak with their strength. A dragon stays loyal to their friend. A dragon never gives up on their dreams. But most important of all, a dragon can be any species, height, color, or type.
I was about to bring up the Hydreigon as a counterpoint, but… well, I guess they respected Ampharos after their defeat in a way, even if it was more than a little grudging on their part.
I think my favourite story in this collection besides Steven Stone giving Grovyle a rock is A Dragon's Valor. I think it best encapsulates the themes of the collection as a whole. Charizard may not be Dragon type, but he embodies the traits of a dragon: loyal, noble, and dedicated to doing the right thing. Also, like, walking in the rain to get your Trainer warm clothes is so cute, oh my goodness.
Yeah, that was actually a major goal of this anthology from all the way back when it was a Drabble Bingo card, to focus on the “weird” dragons of Pokéworld where even if they don’t necessarily match up with what a dragon might be at first blush, they still are dragons in their own way at the end of the day.
I mean hey, I figured if he could give out Sceptilites to literal whos in the anime, he could do the same quite literally in his backyard.
Yeah this is getting philosophical (and ridiculous as my typing autofill says), but hey, Dragon types trigger philosophicals for me. Like I said, they’re an interesting point of discussion in terms of worldbuilding. And I think reading these one shots has taught me a lot about dragons and how I want to write them. So… thanks. Thanks a lot.
I appreciate how you highlight all kinds of dragons throughout this collection: Dragon types, dragons who become dragons through Mega Evolution, underrated dragons, dragons who look like they would be Dragon types but aren't... it shows the diversity of the type and the vibe, and how really anyone can be a dragon. You just gotta believeeeeeeeeee
Yeah, hilariously enough, even some parts of Pokémon franchise canon have come down in this school of thought:
I mean, sure part of that might be Lance coping about not having a full team of Dragon-types as a Dragon Master, but “anyone can be a dragon” does feel pretty true to the franchise sometimes considering how literally anything can rock a Dragon Hidden Power or Tera Type these days. o<o
(oh side note: there’s a paragraph spacing issue in the first story, where some of the paragraphs—I think one or two—don't have spaces between them. But otherwise everything looks great formatting wise)
So yeah, all in all, I think this might be my favourite of your works. Epic work as always, Spiteful Murkrow, and thank you for sharing this collection.
Very cool. Lots of underutilized things going on, even before we get to the story. I like how the flapple notes that, yes, this is a small hoard. They don’t have angst over it. Is THEIR hoard, which makes it important. Important enough to have whole lineages devoted to defending the apples and coins throughout the centuries.
Yeah, admittedly, I’m not sure that I pulled it off as well as I could’ve, but I tried to make a point of giving a framing of “you are the dragon” for readers and trying to get into their heads and the sensations and thoughts that would occur to them that wouldn’t necessarily occur in a human train of thought. Glad to see that it came through here.
The initial / final reaction to the flapple reminds me a lot of another small-ish venom-spitting reptile in pop culture. Don’t think it’s intentional, but still funny.
It wasn’t, but hey, at least things turned out better for those Team Yell flunkies than that guy. ^^;
I also like the tradition established here, that help is given to traveling trainers. Has a vibe of Sacred Hospitality that seems to underpin the whole setting but tends to be omitted from fic because it isn’t explicit.
Yeah, it felt like something that one would expect from a very storied orchard, and in a world where one can have a literal guardian dragon to help oversee the honor system, Flapple babysitting a bunch of apples just felt like too good a premise to pass up.
A Dragon’s Ferocity
Oh, cool, double dragons. Never have been quite sure why ampharos are dragons. None of the other sheep are. Barely any mammals are. But they are all the same. Somehow.
Basically, in Japan, Ampharos’ Japanese name, Denryu, is an incredibly lame pun to both “electric current” and “electric dragon”, which are both pronounced denryū with a longer ‘u’ sound. Thus Ampharos is a sheep that thunders and dragons.
You know I love my hydreigon and hate to read about one losing. Because even with dragon pulse and a stupid high special attack stat… actually, yeah, I can see that outcome happening if the first strike doesn’t kill. The hydreigon should have gone for the head.
Would’ve been worth a shot, even if it’s an open question as to if it would’ve been enough to tip the scales. After all, the Ampharos did give warning that he wasn’t a pushover.
The story does hint at a real problem for IRL apex predators: pastures have replaced the wild lands that used to house their prey. Probably goes double in a world where guard animals can go toe-to-toe with the predators and win. What I’m getting at is that the hydreigon should have been allowed some mareep as a treat. For justice. It does fit with a smaller theme here, though, about dragons having gone from village-razing threats to actual livestock or wild predators unable to even conquer a farm. Very sad. The humans should have their villages razed.
Cue one of those “critters posting on 4chan” macros, but with a Hydreigon. Did you outsource this part of the review to them? >:V
A Dragon’s Lineage
I’m going to be honest, when I read the colors and the wings in the protag’s description I thought they were a dunsparce. I was really disappointed when I figured out they were a dragonair.
But I suppose dragonair are fine. Better than their evolution, at least.
I like a lot of things going on here. The wild v. captive cultural tensions, the protagonist still having a lot of internalized issues they’re trying to work through, and interspecies conflicts in childrearing. Makes you wish there was a pokémon couples therapist. Honestly that could be a hilarious or poignant fic depending on what direction the author took it in. Maybe both.
Though yeah, I wouldn't be terribly shocked if culture clashes about parenthood happened among various Pokémon used to radically different lifestyles from each other.
Also cool to see a portrayal of nature that focuses on mothers who aren’t at all involved in their kid’s childhood. And how that would play in to being asked to actually *raise* their kid. Like an overly attached weirdo.
Yeah, that’s actually the norm for most species of snakes IRL… except pythons, which are the “overly attached weirdos” of snakes that actually care for their young past hatching.
A Dragon’s Savior
Goomy!
I’m curious if seviper would actually eat them. Goomy’s main survival mechanism has always been ‘be disgusting / inedible to predators” in my head. But maybe the seviper is Kalosian and would happily slurp down some escargot. Let’s go with that. This isn’t really important and this paragraph is only here because review blitz is making me say words, even if I would ordinarily leave them out as superfluous.
It was a Serperior, actually. Given that the implied backdrop of the story from the weather patterns and Pokémon is Exeggutor Island from Alola, I wouldn’t be terribly shocked if Serperior ate Goomy. Even if they didn’t, they’re big and threatening-looking with a stabby tail. Just what a meek little slug would need to meep out and stay in the bushes.
There’s a sentence about the Goomy trying to rest that implies that is difficult because… they’ve almost fallen asleep. Isn’t that how rest works? A line about needing to stay vigilant would be nice here.
It’s meant to talk more about seeing Exeggutor’s head moving in blurry-vision, I changed this to “swoop down” since that probably is more fitting for something coming down from above.
It’s the “has”, which shouldn’t be there. Went and snipped that.
I liked this. Not often you get to portray dragons as prey, so this was a cool change of pace. You use the word “rhythms” in a similar way that you did in the hydreigon / ampharos one. Is that just a word Pokémon use to describe their behavior? Or is it somehow religious for dragons.
“rhythms” is just a term that I was using to describe life routines and behaviors, especially cyclic ones that follow intervals of time or weather which would for an Exeggutor Island that plays things to the hilt would have regular intervals of rain and shine on a daily basis. I might play around with some alternatives to it.
I think the description of Steven should read “a white-haired man in a black suit”
Steven is surprisingly chill here. And metagross are depicted as properly scary predators. That’s always cool to see, especially in a fic about all the other (non-tyranitar) pseudos. And I like how you acknowledge the “grovyle who lost their partner tries to steal important objects” parallel. And subtly enough that even if you haven’t played those games your understanding wouldn’t be entirely derailed.
I’ll admit that I was leaning a bit on some of Anime!Steven’s antics in the XY seasons to inform his portrayal here. Though glad to hear that the parallels weren’t too on the nose to be jarring, since this was the one-shot that I outsourced to my inner derivative hack that likes to make shout outs, so it’s a bit relieving to hear that the work still stands on its own decently well.
I also liked how little everything in the human law enforcement world made sense from a xeno perspective. When traveling trainers beat up someone’s Pokémon and take their money, that’s fine. When his trainer does it, that’s robbery. Very arbitrary. Very unfair.
Yeah, I figured that “protagonist-centered morality” would be decently common among Pokémon, and when dealing with the Pokémon of a petty thief that is predatory by ‘dex lore… well, stealing money and belongings isn’t that far removed from that. Your prey just gets to live to fight another day, when they’ll ideally have more shinies to snatch off them.
The discussion of alternatives to Pokémon jail was also cool. I feel like I’ve never really seen that explored before, beyond maybe a mention of putting dangerous Pokémon down.
I mean, it felt like something that would naturally be on the table since introducing Pokémon into the wild is something that happens in franchise canon and it struck me as plausible that there’d be cases for Pokémon causing problems in human society where leaving them to sort themselves out without human interference would be the best option for everyone involved.
Probably happens a bit more often with the likes of Dick the TR Grunt’s Rattata that he caught in the past 6 months than with a veteran poacher’s pseudolegendary, though.
A Flightless Dragon
Are the unfamiliar creatures the trainer has figures of digimon? I’m afraid I don’t know much about that franchise. Can’t think of what else it would be.
BetaPokémon, actually! It’s a bit of a running trend of mine to cameo them as the “Pokémon as the cartoon animals / video game characters” of my mainline writings.
This was really sweet. I found myself grinning for the back half and am kind of sad the anthology is almost over. Certainly a great penultimate entry.
This story actually happens to be my personal favorite of the current batch of one-shots, so it’s heartening to hear that you enjoyed it so much.
To start with, bagon jumping off of things has always been one of the funniest parts of the lore for me. It’s good to see it here, especially in the context of how much a trainer would have to work around it. Like having a two year old that seems to want to get hurt while exploring, except the two year old is also a dragon.
Yeah, it’s one of those behaviors that even in canon is a handful to deal with. I always figured that Bagon would have problems if they misjudged their dives or else didn’t stick their landings, since their dex lore specifically talks about armored heads, which then beggared the question of the sort of things that would happen if they landed on some other part of their bodies.
The little worldbuilding on Pokémon healthcare is also cool. In general I love how you weave in worldbuilding into these entries in ways that doesn’t feel forced, just a natural extension of the story. It’s making me come around on story based anthologies as a way of fleshing out a coherent world.
I’ll admit, that was one of those things that I didn’t pre-plan and just kinda happened. Though I suppose that deliberately trying to aim for a spread of stories that felt distinct from one another would help for exploring different facets of a shared world.
Also, far and away the most creative use I’ve ever seen for a held item. 10/10 job. This bagon flies better than Southwest.
Glad to hear you liked the story, and that quip’s gonna stick in my mind for a while.
I am now imagining this match from the garchomp’s perspective. Get into a friendly bout, the opposing dragon practically pisses themself and hides behind a human. Is that when you realize that you’ve made it?
It was actually implied from the Garchomp’s dialogue that the Charizard was being a bit of an obnoxious tryhard before the match, though otherwise, that’d be a solid contender for knowing when you’ve made it as a dragon.
… Just don’t let it get to your head when getting into fights with Fairies or the like. :V
This was really cute, though. Always a sucker for The Power Of Friendship played straight, and the garchomp being a little unnerved by the charizard at the end is perfection. I imagine in the wild garchomp (and the other quad weak dragons) probably retreat into a cave and go into brumation.
That seems like a decently solid bet, actually. Though you’ve now got the scenario of a quad weak dragon being sent out on a snowy route, looking around the surroundings and then promptly “nope”-ing back into their Pokéball in my mind.
And onix are very scary, charizard. Nothing to be ashamed of.
Ironically enough, they’ve likely gotten scarier for Charizard since evolving since after adjusting for level scaling, those rocks don’t exactly hurt less than they did as a Charmeleon.
Though thanks a million for the review! It was a lot of fun to see your reactions to the different stories. ^^
Oh? A flapple short? I love the concept of this collection already. Such an underused mon, yet there’s so much there to be expanded upon. A flapple as a guardian of an orchard?
Technically of the orchard’s roadside stand, but yes. And it wouldn’t shock me if the Flapple or a few of their peers guarded the orchard more properly on other occasions.
I’ve seen you describe some of your stuff on discord and the forum before, but conceptually it’s all such a great idea. You’re really good at coming up with ideas like this that fascinate me.
I mean, I like to think of myself as the sort of writer that seeks out ideas that aren’t done very often. Glad to hear that they seem to strike a few chords for you.
I think those were Team Yell goofs, which fits with their “we’re insufferable idiots” vibe that the SwSh story gave me.
It’s not stated since the narration is done through the lens of what Flapple would know, but they’re Team Yell goofs, yes.
I love the parallels to traditional fairytale dragons that you featured in this short. Yes, it’s a cute little worm-dragon inhabiting an apple-like shell, but it’s still a goddamn dragon protecting its hoard. It’s also not explicitly bad, like most fairytale dragons.
I really really liked this! It’s short and sweet, you did a great job at setting the scene and delivering a complete story despite the small word count! If all the shorts are this good, I’m going to enjoy Like a Dragon very much.
Whelp, from the sheer length of this review, I think I have an idea of how much you wound up liking this story, but let’s go ahead and read along to get confirmation. :V
I love the clear superiority that hydreigon possesses. Yes, it knows that it probably shouldn’t fuck with the humans. But at the same time, it’s a hydreigon, what are they really gonna be able to do to it? And hydreigon, for its own part, knows this. Excellent job at displaying the mental processes of this pokemon and telling me exactly who it is in a single short blurb.
Ironically enough, I’d have expected a more seasoned Hydreigon to be a bit more muted in this sort of thought process, since they’ve been around the block enough to know their limits better in a way that the viewpoint character doesn’t. Or at least, not at the start anyways. o<o
And DAMN, the actual attack on the mareep is appropriately brutal. Vicious and violent and everything hydreigon ought to be.
I mean, the original drabble was built around ‘Cute but Ferocious’, and… while I suppose that Hydreigon are nothing to sneeze at on that front sometimes, it’s the Ampharos that delivered on that end for the original prompt.
HELL YEAH AMPHY
I friggin love ampharos, to the point where I’ve included one across a few of the fics I’ve written. Best electric type imo. I’m only slightly disappointed that it didn’t mega evolve, but it still dragon pulse’d just fine.
Though hey, never say never there. Since hey, if I ever asked for another Drabble Bingo card for this and got an ‘Ampharos’ one, Mega!Amphy would be a fast way to get into new territory.
Nice touch having hydreigon admit through the narrative that it’s both scared and ashamed of that fear. It’s not much, but it’s there when you mention it making the same sound as the mareep and mention twice that it would never admit to making noises like that.
Yeah, most pseudolegendaries don’t strike me as the type to be used to being in over their heads. Which makes it a fun thought exercise to imagine how they might come to terms with those times where in spite of their strength, they’re not in control or a good situation.
I like the repetition of the opening reference to the verdant fields and the place where prey grow fat and happy. I especially like the change to the passage, reflecting that hydreigon is now afraid of those verdant fields and the ampharos that protects them.
I really liked how animalistic this one was. Very brutal, just like the mon whose POV we are in.
Glad to hear that, really. Since something that I deliberately aimed for for these shorts in general was to try and give off the sorts of thoughts and vibes that the creature whose eyes the story is being told might have as a “you are the dragon” exercise.
Sounds like the POV delivered well on that front in this one-shot.
A Dragon's Lineage
Off the bat, I like the opening. It’s a good look at some of the things that a pokemon might find strange about humans.
I also like how quick and to the point it was. Three paragraphs and you give us the entire crux of the story.
Yeah, this one was a bit of a simpler story, but I figured that there was still some work needed to tee up the premise, which was as good an opportunity as any to show off how a Pokémon originating from a wild lifestyle might view the “quirks” of being trained.
It’s also a nice look at a concept that the games just kinda used as an obscure mechanic. Cross-species coupling is something that seems weird, but it does have a basis in reality. It’s presented as really sweet here, with the dragonair having chosen his own mate due to his past with other dragons.
Love the nod to how animals basically are born and ready to go the moment they’re out and about. Nice touch as well to have Arbok not feel capable of being a mother due to a distinct lack of motherly instincts.
I mean, it helps that you can canonically get downright weird with interspecies breeding in Pokémon such as the various improbable pairings you can do with a Wailord. This one actually originated from trying to do a one-shot about Ekans, realizing that in spite of being in the Dragon Egg Group, that it doesn’t learn any Dragon-type moves, and then merging it with a ‘Dragon’s Lineage’ prompt after wondering how a more stock dragon might parse having a child that’s very different from them.
I hadn’t really ever put much thought into how a father might feel about a child that isn’t even the same species as it. That would be very tough to deal with, being essentially different than your own offspring in ways that make you completely unable to relate to them.
Well fortunately for the father in this case, he at least has morphological similarity. But yeah, there are definitely some hurdles, which this one-shot tried to explore.
I’m unsure about a pokemon’s growth curve, but having a literal newborn be able to speak seems… idk maybe I’m just equating humans to fantasy creatures that are based on animals who function with no parental guidance at all.
It was more meant in the sense of ‘baby talk’ since my own assumptions about Pokémon sapience are such that they learn how to ‘talk’ coherently at a significantly earlier age than humans. Even if Ekans there is likely still a ways away from that.
An adorably sweet ending! I love good fatherhood and that’s an amazing sweet example of it!
Well Goomy is presented as a fairly weak Pokémon. I tried to play into that a bit in the course of this one-shot since… yeah, Goomy would take the L in a whole host of matchups.
Then we get a shot of real terror. Goomy is absolutely useless, so it’s real and not forced. What the hell is a goomy supposed to do against anything, much less an angry pinsir.
To be fair, I think a fairly large swath of Pokémon would be unable to do much more than
when confronted by an angry Pinsir. Even if they’d probably be able to flee a bit more effectively than a Goomy. :V
I like the little quirks of biology that you’ve been making use of in these. Of course goomy can flatten itself into the ground almost completely, it’s basically a sentient dragon puddle.
The anime does this and I’ve seen it done in a couple other fics, so I figured it was good enough as a way to keep Goomy from losing their head. Literally.
The mental image of a sentient puddle flinging itself off a cliff while being chased by a murder-beetle is not embedded in my brain. It shouldn’t be funny (it’s actually terrifying because pinsir are), but the fact that it’s a puddle is.
I love the immediate shift once the exeggutor saves goomy. The prose and the narrative no longer have that terrified feel to it. Instead, it’s… relaxed in the presence of this “noble“ dragon. As well, I love the reverence that the prose displays towards the exeggutor. Its a great touch!
And the final scene, is a welcome shift from the fear that filled so much of the fic. It’s happy and comforted, and the prose itself seems to relax knowing that it’s safe. A great little one shot, I’m really enjoying these little peeks into the lives of random pokemon.
You know, I hadn’t really thought too hard about how the mood perceptibly shifts when Goomy is no longer about to become bug chow, but I suppose that’s a benefit of writing from a perspective that’s more intimate to the character. Definitely wouldn’t have come through like that if I had written these one-shots in an omniscient perspective.
A Dragon Someday
Absolutely fantastic job setting this one up. Also, a thief‘s pokemon? Great concept here. Grovyle also fits perfectly as the somewhat immoral thief character.
I mean, they’re not exactly stealing Time Gears here, but yeah. Grovyle ‘works’ for a Pokémon in this role for a couple of reasons, really.
Is… is he trying to rob Steven? Of a Mega Stone? Damn, going straight for the hardest choice. Grass V Steel definitely won’t end well, let alone a grovyle who seems to be missing his trainer?
Oh, the trainer was definitely arrested or something. So the grovyle is trying to steal a sceptilite to get him back or something. Very very interesting concept.
Even if the protag isn’t knowledgeable enough about mega stones to ID a Sceptilite right away.
I wonder how nice of a trainer he actually was, given that he’s likely locked up or something. I wonder if it’s a sort of “rose coloured glasses” situation where the pokemon is looking back and remembering a situation fonder than it actually was.
Well, for Grovyle, their trainer was pretty swell, and I tried to play that up. Whether or not that bond/training was being put to ethical uses is another matter.
Aaaaand that seems almost like it’s kinda what’s going on. The trainer was definitely a thief. But I don’t get the sense that grovyle understands at all what that entails. It seems almost like grovyle didn’t really look at it like stealing, or like it doesn’t understand what stealing as a concept is?
I almost get the sense that the trainer purposely didn’t train grovyle to understand what was going on. Like… the other pokemon after grovyle is captured seem to understand humans and understand what’s going on, but he doesn’t. He still loves his trainer, to the lengths that he’s willing to fight for him.
Such is life with protagonist-centered morality. Much in the way that I’d expect Silver’s Pokémon from GS to likely have a fuzzier understanding of the morality of stealing for a good chunk of their tenure considering some of Silver’s antics.
It does seem sincere though, once we end the flashback. Grovyle seems to really miss his trainer and actively want him back. Perhaps he didn’t mistreat his pokemon and was just… a thief. Without knowing too much about the trainer, I’ll actually reserve judgement on him.
We distinctly don’t know the background here, so all we’re left with is Grovyle’s biased narration. The trainer could be a good guy in a bad situatio, or coerced into the path he was on. Or he could have just been a decent enough trainer that didn’t care to extend his treatment of his pokemon to other people.
It’s left up to the reader’s interpretation, though I personally imagined it as the last option of the ones that you floated there.
His parents are seemingly embarrassed of him though, and try to pretend he doesn’t exist anymore. I really sympathize with Grovyle here. That would be traumatic as hell, his only vestiges of his trainer essentially pretending that his only family didn’t exist. He brushes it off in his rush, but I’d bet this affects him greater than he lets on in the narrative.
As I would expect from watching your best friend get unpersoned by people that you thought loved him for reasons you don’t fully understand. It almost certainly affects Grovyle quite a bit.
Odd that Grovyle is gambling on these rocks quite so hard. It seems an excessive risk, but
I love that Grovyle is smart enough to know that he stands absolutely no chance against Steven and Metagross. He absolutely doesn’t and would last moments in a straight up fight. I like the little joke of Steven’s obsession with rocks slipped in.
I mean, they are a thief. Being able to snatch shinies out from under stronger opponents is a particularly valuable skill to hone as one.
Ah that’s definitely not sceptilite. Right as shits hitting the fan. I wonder how this will go, but I kinda doubt Steven is gonna be all that punishment happy about it. He doesn’t seem the type.
Yeah, I got the idea from some Humans of New York-style tumblr from ages ago whose name eludes me that cameoed the PMD games as an in-setting series of children’s books. I thought it was cute and it was a good enough excuse to have Steven bring up “Grovyle the Thief” verbatim, so something to that effect is also around in this setting.
Grovyle’s fear here that Metagross is going to literally eat him seems like it’s another example of his trainer not exactly teaching him about the world. It almost seems like he was purposely misleading Grovyle a bit, at least to solidify his own hold on the young pokemon.
Not that you aren’t correct, though to be fair on the protag, when you’re being telekinetically restrained by a Metagross making “chomp chomp” noises, one could be forgiven for being worried about whether or not it’s really just an intimidating display.
I didn’t think Steven would go all murder happy on a little Grovyle. Good boy Steven, good boy.
Well, it’d be a really short and abruptly-ending story if he was, so… ^^;
I didnt think that was a sceptilite. He accidentally grabbed the metagrossite. Calling it here, he’s gonna trade it for his mega stone. Maybe his partner’s freedom, but I don’t think Steven would actually do that.
Also would be a wee bit hard even if there wasn’t a language barrier since Steven almost certainly doesn’t have the power to arbitrarily release prisoners.
And then they trade and Grovyle gets to leave. It’s a sombre and yet determined ending. He can’t even use the sceptilite without a trainer, but he’s so determined to get his family back.
I really really like this one. Partly because Steven, but also because the perspective of a “bad guy” pokemon. Really really excellent work here.
Once upon a time, the original plot bunny behind this anthology prior to dusting it off for Drabble Bingo was meant to be a short story from the perspective of figures like Grovyle who were at once “weird dragons” and had underworld ties. Didn’t quite turn out that way in the end, but I might try and revisit the general premise under new scenarios and with new faces if this anthology ever gets added content.
Fortunately for your hat, it is indeed focused around a Bagon.
Lol. I love stubborn, flightless bagon. It’s such a fun trope, and seeing a story from that POV should be interesting.
I love the absolute determination in the prose. Bagon is so completely certain that it should be flying. It’s a funny attitude and definitely the kind of pride that a dragon as mighty as this should have!
Funnily enough, Marl is the only character from this anthology aside from the Dragonair to have a canonically-assigned gender at this point in time. If you’ve read through to Part 4 of Dragonspiral’s Children, this is that same Marl. Just younger and a bit closer to home.
Though that’s not terribly relevant for a readthrough here for the sake of preserving the second person perspective, though it is a bit interesting to see how interpretations fluctuate a bit between one reader and the next.
Well shit. Did Marl roll down a hill or something? That seems damn unfortunate. Although, I seriously doubt that it’s going to stop this Bagon from attempting to fly again as soon as that leg is better.
I might need to make it clearer, but Marl clipped the wall separating the property from the alleyway outside, then pinwheeled forward and fell on her leg with around three stories’ worth of downward momentum.
Awwww I love how much Roy cares about Marl. He’s such a good big brother Wartortle.
Aaaaand they’re promptly going to just leave him alone? I get that he can’t really move, but… he’s gonna try to fly again, even with the broken leg.
This is so wholesome and cute and I LOVE it. I love that it helps Marl feel better I love how happy and lightweight this one feels. This is a great little collection of stories in different tones and feels.
I see what you did there. Though glad to hear that you’re finding the anthology a nice mix thematically. They’re all a bit on the lighter side by design, but I tried to make sure that each one would be a different experience that would do something that the others didn’t.
Yeah, this Charizard is a +Spd / -Atk Charizard. A wee bit different from the stock assumption of what a Charizard might be in nature, but eh. I’ve gotten some mileage out of this character archetype before and figured that it was as good an excuse to revisit it when I got a prompt for “Charizard” thrown in my lap.
Oh man, a good old shame spiral. Honestly its really understandable. A giant rock snake is terrifying, even if you are a goddamn flying fire breathing dragon.
Yup, and it’s played for a really wholesome ending. Charizard here might not be a “dragon”. But she certainly is “Like a Dragon” when it counts (and I love the use of the title in the story lol).
And thanks for taking the time to review it! I’m really happy to hear that they were a fun ride for you. ^^
Thanks again for your reviews everybody. Can’t say for sure whether or not this will be it for LaD or if I’ll have more stories to throw out for it someday when inspiration strikes. But hey, this did spring to life from a Drabble Bingo card over the course of 72 hours, so who knows? Might have more of these to share at some point down the line. ^^
Winter’s come early again this year. Just barely a month ago, the trees still had their autumn leaves and now the snow is already blanketing the ground in the world outside. Were you still living in the wilds, this would be a time when you’d retreat to your den, pull your wings in and tuck your ruddy head up against your tail to enter brumation huddled up with your young or, if you had none at the time, with a good dozen of your peers. A quite literal ‘Druddigon cuddlepile’ in as some younger humans might say.
“Ha ha! I’ve got you this time!”
But dwelling among humans allows a Pokémon to live in ways that aren’t dictated by nature’s cycles—much as the warmth of the fireplace you’re basking yourself by reminds you. You lift your head and peer into the darkness deeper in your trainer’s living room with your piercing yellow eyes and spot a pair of young Druddigon, spitting images of yourself, romping and chasing each other around the couch.
Even with the snow and winter chill kept safely at bay by the windows and walls of this human den, your children manage to surprise you at times with just how energetic they are. Especially now when the streetlights outside are lit up and the moon and stars are visible in the sky.
“Children… it’s getting late, keep it down,” you mutter tiredly. “Your trainers are trying to sleep right now.”
As were you, for that matter. But your children seem to have other plans in mind, and look at you from the couch with whines of protest.
“Aww, but mom!”
The little one dragging his feet is your Second of Two, and if you living back in the wilds, that would be his name among peers of your kind until he accomplished his first feat worth being remembered for. He is ‘Rudd’ to the humans you live with, and your First of Two is ‘Rufus’ to them. You’re not sure what the story behind how the humans chose those names for them was, but that’s not on your mind at the moment.
“Enough. Both of you, come and rest-”
You get up and throw a set of claws out to tug your younger child over, and abruptly recoil after noticing his scales feel cold to the touch. A flash of alarm crosses your eyes, before you scowl down with a scolding growl.
“Ack, your scales are freezing right now! How are you two not bothered by this?!” you hiss. “Come by the fire and warm up right now! It’s not good for young dragons like you to be this cold!”
“Aren’t there those ‘vent’ thingies by the walls we can just lay on?” your elder child asks, giving a sheepish grin.
You decide to put your foot down and slip behind your children, nudging them forward with a sharp harrumph. They squirm and flail briefly and you sigh to yourself, since of course they’d put up a fuss.
“Nonsense, you’ll stay warmer huddled up with me,” you insist. “Why, back when I lived in the wilds, I’d do it myself every winter with the other Druddigon that I lived around.”
The pair stop struggling against you for a moment, before they turn and stare up with puzzled frowns.
“In that tower north of town that you and Duke talk about?” your elder child asks. “Why on earth would Druddigon want to live there?”
“Yeah, there’s no fireplaces in there to stay warm with!” your younger child insists before trailing off to himself.
“Are there?”
Well, it is common practice to occasionally break brumation to warm the ground with a gout of dragonfire and stave off the cold. But you learned long ago that such practices don’t mix well with the flooring of human dens, especially ones made from fuzzy ‘carpet’ like the one underfoot, so you opt not to give your children ideas.
“No, but there’s a lot of Pokémon like you and me who live in and around there, and others that are friends to them much like how your trainers’ teammates are to you,” you explain. “It’s a very, very special place that many other dragons elsewhere in Unova would be jealous of the Druddigon for being able to live there.”
Your Second of Two bats his wings tilts his head with a puzzled frown in reply.
“Huh? How come?” he asks. “I know you’ve said it’s a special place… but why would that make the Pokémon there friends with one another?”
“Yeah, and why would anyone be jealous of living there?” his brother chimes in.
… Maybe this was just the break you needed to wrangle them over by the fire. And the tale which answers your children’s question is one that you and the other Druddigon from your old home always took pride in.
“Well, it’d be a bit hard to tell you the story while you’re running and jumping around,” you chuckle. “Stay with me by the fireplace and I’ll tell it to you. Sound fair?”
The two dragonlets murmur in agreement and follow you back to the fire’s side. You settle in against the warmed carpet, and so do they, scooting up against your hide. They stretch their wings and shift to try and steal the heat from the fireplace, already starting to grow comfortable. If you can just keep them here for a couple minutes, they’ll surely be too content to want to give this warmth up to go back to playing elsewhere in the house.
And so, you look down as your First of Two paws at you, and he turns his snout up with a curious blink.
“So, how did Druddigon like us wind up living in that tower, then?”
There… are a number of versions of that story that go about, both among humans and Pokémon alike. After all, it’s not just Druddigon who came to Dragonspiral Tower. Though you decide to focus on just their story for tonight. It alone is already a bit of a saga, and it should be just long enough to hold your children’s attention until they start to nod off.
Also, it’s always been a matter of pride for you as a story of your and your children’s kind. The story of how they of all the dragons of Unova won the trust of the Dragons of Deep Black and Vast White.
“Well… long, long ago, there were gods that lived among humans and Pokémon in this land. Dragons, like you and me, one of Deep Black and another of Vast White,” you begin. “And in those times, the tower to the north was built as a sanctuary for them by humans alongside Golett and Golurk companions. A place where the dragons could be worshiped and showered with tributes of food and treasure.”
“Wait,” your younger child cuts in. “But I thought the tower was built for a god.”
You catch yourself briefly at his words, since the story of how Dragonspiral Tower came to be the roost of one god is an unhappy tale of ruin by fire and lightning. One that you’re not sure that your children need to hear at their young age.
“It’s… complicated to explain, and a story best saved for another day since it happened well after the first Druddigon moved in,” you insist. “But the point is, that at the time, the tower was built for two dragons who shared it as a den, much like we share this one together.”
“But wouldn’t those dragons there already have plenty of friends already?” your First of Two asks. “You just said there were a bunch of humans and Golett, right?”
“Yeah, and dad says that dragons like him normally like having places that they don’t have to share for dens,” your younger child adds. “Wouldn’t it already be a bit crowded even before the Druddigon came?”
You sigh to yourself as your children’s energy proves slower to wane than you’d thought. Perhaps if your mate were here, this would be an easier task. But he’s with his own human and far away at the moment, so this is a story that you must tell alone. You opt to brush your children’s questions aside and open your mouth to keep your tale going.
“Well… yes, but the gods’ den was so big that even for two dragons, it was a bit lonely. And even though they already had many friends, none of them thought quite like them,” you explain. “The dragons wanted friends who would know what it was like to bask in the sun, of the thrill of a successful hunt, of the joy of finding a precious treasure and proudly showing it to others. And so it was that the gods asked the humans who worshiped them to find them additional friends to help watch over their shrine—ones who would be dragons like them.”
You pause briefly, expecting your children to pepper you with further questions, only to see that they’re now staring at you in rapt attention. You quietly sigh in relief that you won’t have to explain more just yet and continue telling your tale.
“Those humans went through all of Unova searching for dragons to be friends and helpers for the gods. Ones who would stand guard over the tower’s grounds and accept the treasures brought to them by visitors,” you tell your children. “The first ones they brought forth were Haxorus and their kin. Mighty dragons that stood tall and proud, and felled their foes with mighty chops of their tusks… and as dragons who didn’t eat much meat while they were young, they struck the ancients as ideal companions for the gods.”
You trail off a bit for dramatic effect, and give an affected, disappointed shake of your head. Much as your own mother did when she recounted this tale to you so many moons ago.
“Unfortunately, the Haxorus were a bit too open to fight, both with the Pokémon already there at the tower and with each other. And so it was that day and night, they kept quarreling over who would be highest among themselves as guardians,” you say. “Their fighting and battlecries went on and on to the point where the gods themselves couldn’t sleep. Such were things until one day, after one fight too many, the gods bellowed their displeasure and chased the Haxorus away from the tower with fire and thunder nipping at their tails.”
Your children jostle against you and turn their heads up, pawing at you with worried grimaces.
“W-Wait, but dad’s a Haxorus and he’s not like that,” your elder child insists. “... Is he?”
“I-Is this god still mad at him?” your other child asks.
You flinch briefly and bite your tongue. That wasn’t at all what you wanted your children to take away from that part of the story! You sit up from your resting position entirely, waving your claws vigorously in protest as you speak back to them.
“No! No! Not at all! It’s just that of the dragons that were brought before the gods, those Haxorus didn’t understand the importance of the duties they were entrusted with. And because of it, they left a bad first impression as a result,” you reassure them. “The gods that roost there didn’t hold a grudge against all Haxorus because of it. It’d have been awful for most dragons in this land if they did, especially for the Hydreigon and their kin who took their place afterwards.”
Your children jolt up with a start themselves and also sit up, pulling their wings in and staring nervously at you.
“... Wait, Hydreigon?” your Second of Two asks. “B-But why on earth would the gods want Pokémon so scary watching over their den?”
“Well, being scary’s not a bad thing all the time. After all, plenty of Pokémon would call you or me scary, and a scary guard can chase away others that mean harm to the places they have to protect more easily,” you explain. “That said, part of being a guard for someone else is that you need to be kindly to their guests, which the Hydreigon and their kin… weren’t.”
You look at your claws, and decide that while you’re still seated… perhaps a bit of acting to stir your children’s imagination is in order. You hold your arms out and curl your claws in almost like mouths, spreading your wings to mimic the appearances of a Hydreigon in flight.
“When the Hydreigon came, they too fought amongst each other, and stripped much of the surrounding forests bare to feed themselves,” you say, flashing your fangs for ominous effect. “And as the new guardians of the gods’ den, they took every opportunity they could to lord over those that lived in and around their tower. To the point where humans and Pokémon stopped visiting the gods entirely because they were too afraid of their guards and how they’d be treated.”
Your children are scooting in towards each other and holding onto each other now, visibly shivering and wide-eyed. You decide that’s as good a sign as any to reel things in and bring your arms and wings at rest. After all, this is supposed to be a happy story, not a frightening one.
“After seeing their visitors dwindle along with their gifts of treasure, the gods’ patience wore out. Once again, they bellowed their displeasure and chased the Hydreigon away from the tower, with fire and thunder nipping at their tails.”
That seems to do the trick as your children calm down and settle in against the carpet again, as your First of Two blinks at you with a curious quirk of his brow.
“How many other dragons were brought to the tower anyways?”
“All the ones that could be found from Unova,” you answer. “All of whom caused their own troubles when they were brought over.”
There was quite a list of other dragons that failed to secure the gods’ favor in your tale, and moving your wings and limbs, you try to mimic the forms of each one as you mention them.
“The Flygon would keep digging up the sacred stones set up about the tower, while the Altaria would sing and trill at inappropriate times. The Dragonite couldn’t be coaxed to come out of the moat every other day, while the Salamence would spend more time flying about than standing guard and burned their surroundings when angered,” you finish, with your wings held flat and wide as you trail off and sit back down on the carpet.
“But in the end, it was not those annoyances that were those dragons’ undoing,” you tell your children. “Instead, there were always two things that each and every one of them did that ultimately wore the gods’ patience thin…”
“They kept fighting with each other and the Pokémon and humans who were already there?”
You turn your head down and look at your children, with your elder child finishing your words with a quiet yawn before you can finish. You settle back down on the carpet and give a small smile, content that thus far, your scheme has been bearing fruit.
“That’s right, and like every group of dragons before them, the gods would chase the latest newcomers away with fire and lightning,” you reply, nodding. “And so it was that the late fall came, and in the weeks just before the first snowflakes started falling from the sky, the first Druddigon arrived in the forests surrounding the tower.”
“Wait, but why would things turn out differently for them?” your Second of Two asks. “Since if all those other dragons made the gods upset… what made them so special?”
“Well, part of it is that the Druddigon came there for different reasons,” you explain, casting a glance out at the snowy world outside through the living room window.
“... Unlike the other dragons, the Druddigon had lost their home in the mountains earlier that year and spent all of the warm months searching for another outside of it,” you tell them. “During their wanderings, they heard stories of a tower that would be given away as a den for dragons, so long as they impressed the gods and their guardians that dwelt within it.”
“But how did they do that?” the dragonlet presses you.
“By working together!” you chuckle back. “After hearing of the earlier dragons’ squabbles, the Druddigon’s elder dragons gathered their ranks together and declared that if they would merely work together, that the den would be there for them all.”
Well, things were undoubtedly more complicated than that, but you’ve always been fondest of the simpler version of the story that your mother and the other Druddigon you lived around told most frequently. And thus, you stick to it and continue telling it.
“And so they bravely marched forth, young and old, weak and strong, meeting the gods’ guardians in battle and fighting them to a draw,” you say, smiling back. “And with force of will and dragons’ might, their strength and teamwork so impressed the Dragons of Deep Black and Vast White that the gods at once offered the Druddigon the honor of guarding their shrine.”
Your children’s eyes are excited now as they murmur to each other about how exciting it must have been to impress such strong Pokémon when even the likes of mighty Haxorus and Hydreigon couldn’t. Their eyelids are starting to grow heavy, and content that your storytelling has done its work, you start to curl up towards the fire alongside them and give a content smile.
“And that is how Druddigon like us came to live in Dragonspiral Tower.”
That seems as good a note as any to leave things on and give the last nudge needed to push your children off towards sleep. You start to reach out to pull them in towards you, when a quiet, disapproving voice speaks up from behind.
“... That’s not how I remember the story going, Neela. I grew up around Dragonspiral Tower myself, and I distinctly remember the tale of how the Druddigon came to live there being quite different.”
You stiffen up after a yipping voice calls out the name your humans use for you and turn to see a Mienshao approaching with a small, quiet frown. That’s ‘Duke’ as your humans call him, which you suppose has rubbed off on you from force of habit. He was a partner to the the humans of this family before you, and the Pokémon who showed you the ropes when you just started being trained. He’s the closest thing there is to an elder among the Pokémon in this human den, and like an elder, he carries wisdom from both his life spent among humans and his time before that.
It’s that second source of wisdom that has you a bit worried, as you speak up and hurriedly try to brush him off.
“Ah, yes. Well, it’s folklore,” you insist. “There’s usually slightly different versions of stories that go around depending on whoever tells it—”
“Maybe so, but even that’s definitely not the most commonly-told version of the story I heard when living around Dragonspiral Tower,” the Mienshao retorts, folding his arms. “Especially the parts about how the Druddigon came into the tower. It’s not quite as simple a story as that.”
You grimace as your children are suddenly more awake now, and much to your chagrin, much as children tend to do, your younger child lets curiosity get the better of him and he glances up at the Mienshao.
“Oh? What was different about those versions of the story you heard?”
Duke doesn’t frown, but even so, his expression remains firm as he squats to lower himself down to your children’s level.
“Well, the Druddigon’s purpose for coming to Dragonspiral Tower was a bit different in the versions of that story I usually heard. In the wilds, Druddigon don’t just hunt for food, but also for dens,” Duke explains. “And when they come across one that’s pleasing to them, sometimes they will try and drive its owner off to claim it for themselves.”
He shakes his head as you tighten your claws against the carpet and quietly cringe. If the version of the story Duke’s about to tell is the one that you think it is, it’s not one that paints your ancestors in a particularly flattering light.
“That was also what brought them to Dragonspiral Tower. They had been wandering from the mountains, when in the late fall, they passed through the forests and moors around what is now Icirrus City. There, they came across the tower, not knowing that it was a shrine to the gods,” he says. “All they saw was that it was a pleasing den, but much too big for any of one of them to claim alone. And so their elders said: ‘let us join claws and hunt this den from those who dwell there to take for ourselves’.”
Your children are starting to waver now, as that sense of wonder you worked so hard to instill leaves their eyes and a doubtful unease takes its place.
“... Wait, but aren’t there Golett and Golurk at the tower still?” your elder child asks. “Doesn’t that mean that those Druddigon lost?”
“Well, yes and no. Your mother is right about them fighting the defenders to a draw, and some of the tellers of the story I heard said they even gained the upper paw. And as such, were about to drive off those Golett and Golurk and take the tower for themselves,” the Mienshao says, before shaking his head.
“The problem was that they went off to claim Dragonspiral Tower on a day when the gods came back to roost,” the Fighting-type continues. “And when the gods found out about what these strangers had done to their companions, they were quite understandably upset.”
Your grumble under your breath about how Duke just had to step in and ruin your story right before the kids were about to sleep. Their wings are drooped now and their heads held low in disappointment, as your Second of Two uneasily raises his voice to ask:
“What… happened then?”
“Well, the way I usually heard the story told, the gods grew enraged and bellowed their displeasure and swooped down at the Druddigon, throwing fire and lightning at their feet,” Duke replies. “It is said that the Druddigon grew sore afraid at the display of the Dragons’ might, to the point where some of them even fell ill out of fright in the gods’ presence—”
You’ve had enough. You don’t understand why Duke is doing this since as your mentor, it’s not like him to just embarrass you in front of others. You let out a sharp glare and growl your displeasure, turning away with a sour huff.
“Alright Duke, we don’t need to hear the rest,” you snap. “I just wanted to tell the kids a nice story before they went to sleep before you had to step in and ruin things.”
The Mienshao falls quiet for a moment, before he looks over with a small smile and a waves of a wispy-furred paw.
“Then wouldn’t it make sense for me to end the story before it’s over, now would it?” he asks. “After all, while the truth of any story doesn’t always show Pokémon like us at our best, in this one, of all the dragons that came before them, the gods did indeed choose those same Druddigon to help stand guard over their tower.
You blink and realize that Duke must be telling a different version of the story of how Dragonspiral Tower came to have Druddigon than you expected. Your own children blink in confusion as they look up at the Mienshao, and try to make sense of his reassurance.
“They… did?” your Second of Two asks. “But why?”
“Yeah, the Druddigon in your story were mean to the Pokémon that were already there!” your First of Two protests. “And when the gods got mad at them, they got all scaredy afterwards. Why on earth would the gods want them after everything?”
“Well, I think you’re being a bit harsh on them. Since most Pokémon in their situation would be pretty scared, dragon or not,” the Mienshao insists. “But in spite of their fright, amidst the gods’ roars and their fire and lightning, the Druddigon did not yield or turn away or flee like the other dragons that came before them. Even while visibly quaking, they alone stood firm.”
You blink at the Mienshao’s answer, and your features ease a bit. He sees them himself, before he raises a paw and continues with his tale.
“With embers and sparks dancing about them, the gods held back their power briefly as they grew curious about the Druddigon’s strange determination and demanded an answer from them: ‘Why did you come here and harm our guardians? Even if you had successfully defeated them, did you really think that you could best our might?’”
Duke trails off briefly, studying your reaction and your children’s. You glimpse out the corner of your eye and see what he does: that that curious spark has returned to their eyes. Even if they’re not as excited as they were for your version of the story, they don’t look disappointed anymore.
“At the gods’ demand, one of the Druddigon at the front fell to his belly with a heartful plea: ‘Dragons of Deep Black and Vast White, have pity! We sought your tower for ourselves because our dens were hunted from us and we have none to shield ourselves from winter’s snow!’”
You see your children stiffen up and glance out the window towards the snow through the window and wince at the sight. Being stuck in such weather without shelter all winter would be the end of many a dragon, and while this detail is also in the version of events you were worried Duke would bring up… somehow his version feels like it doesn’t make light of those Druddigon of bygone times.
“The other Druddigon joined in and with one voice desperately echoed their companion’s plea, explaining that if they were turned away, they would surely die. If not from the gods’ wrath, then from winter’s frost. The gods were moved by their plight and lingered for a moment, before one of them, their identity lost to time, spoke up.”
This time, Duke turns his eyes to yours, and runs a paw on your head crest, giving a small smile down at you as words that surprise you come from his mouth
“‘Stand tall, brave and noble dragons. For you have shown unity and humility where all others before you did not, and did not yield and turn away from us even in the face of certain death.’”
You blink at your mentor. You can’t tell if he’s just saying this to make you feel better or not. In tellings of this tale you’ve heard where the teller portrayed the Druddigon as acting craven, the gods didn’t say anything as gracious as that to them.
And yet, every word that leaves his mouth feels natural and unrehearsed, like he’d heard it told many times himself. You yourself find yourself getting engrossed as he opens his mouth and carries on with his tale.
“For a fleeting moment, the Druddigon were at a loss, when the other divine dragon spoke up in stern warning: ‘So long as you dwell in our domains, you shall never claim this land as its masters, but defend it on our behalf. You shall live amongst our other servants as equals. They shall be your allies and you shall be theirs,’” the Mienshao says. “And so the Druddigon lowered their heads and marched forward into their new den, taking their place among Dragonspiral Tower’s guardians.”
The Mienshao stoops down and pats at your children’s crests, before turning to you with a knowing smile.
“Considering how there’s Druddigon that live out there to this day, I’d say that they’ve done a pretty good job keeping up their end of the bargain,” he reassures. “Don’t you think, Neela?”
You should probably be more annoyed by how Duke undercut your story earlier, but at the same time, even if it could’ve done without some of its less flattering details, his telling of the tale has its own charm. Like your own that you’ve passed on to your children, it’s a story of a lineage to be proud of: of courage and unity winning your ancestors an honor most Pokémon could only dream of.
Your children are tired now and your First of Two is now pawing at his eyes, while your younger stretches out against the carpet, before looking up with a curious murmur.
“Wait, but Duke? There weren’t any Mienshao in that story at all,” he says. “Were they not there already when the Druddigon came?”
You stiffen up at your younger child’s question. Even as it is told among its Druddigon, the story of how Mienfoo and Mienshao came to be guardians of Dragonspiral Tower is one that doesn’t reflect your kind that well. It’s a tale of how for all their strength and valor, the tower’s dragons ultimately needed help making good on their duties during the chill of the wintry months. Duke sees your tension, with a chuckling shake of his head, he opts to spare you further embarrassment for tonight.
“That’s a story for another time, little one,” your mentor says. “You look tired, and it’s important for a young dragon like you to stay warm and rest on a cold night like this.”
The Mienshao gets up and drifts off, for his own corner elsewhere in the house that he claims to doze off in at night. You settle in with your children, curling up together beside the fire as your Second of Two paws at your chest and looks into your eyes.
“I liked your version of the story more, mom,” he tells you. “Though will we ever get to go to that tower ourselves?”
You look down, and nuzzle at your child as a knowing smile comes over your maw.
“We will, sweetie. When you and your brother are a bit older.”
You curl up with your children beside the fire and begin to drift off. For a fleeting moment, you wonder to yourself… between your story and Duke’s, which of the two is closer to the truth? Duke’s version of the tale you knew has details that are the ones in yours, so does that mean that yours isn’t right?
You think back to Duke’s reassurance at the end and ultimately decide to leave things be. Whatever really happened, those Druddigon won the gods’ trust in the end.
You and your children carry the lineage of those brave and noble dragons, and it is one that you all can be proud of.
Original Drabble:
Firebreathers
Heliolisk
Serpentine
Scale and Fang
Gyarados
Outrage
Dragon's Den
Proud Lineage
Scraggy
Winter’s come early this year again. Just barely a month ago, the trees still had their autumn leaves and now the snow is already coming and blanketing the world outside. Were you still living in the wilds, this would be when you’d huddle up in your den and enter brumation. To pull your wings in and tuck your ruddy head up against your tail. Huddled up with your young, and considering the specific place you come from, likely huddled up with a good dozen of your peers.
“Ha ha! I’ve got you this time!”
But living among humans allows one to live in ways outside the workings of nature. As the warm fireplace you’re basking yourself next to reminds. You raise your head and peer out with your piercing yellow eyes as a pair of young Druddigon, spitting images of yourself, romp and chase each other around the couch of your trainer’s living room.
Even with the snow and winter chill kept safely at bay, your children surprise you at times with how much energy they have. Especially now when the streetlights outside are lit and the moon and stars in the sky.
“Kids… it’s getting late, keep it down,” you mutter tiredly. “Your trainers are trying to sleep right now.”
As were you, for that matter. But your children seem to have other things in mind. They look at you from the couch with whines of protest.
“Aww, but mom!”
He is your Second of Two, and were you living back in the wilds, that would be his name among your kind until he accomplished his first feat worth being remembered for. He is ‘Rudd’ to the humans you live with, and your First of Two ‘Rufus’. You’re not sure what the story behind how they chose them is, but that’s not on your mind at the moment.
“Enough. Both of you, come and rest-”
You throw a set of claws out to tugg at your younger child, only to recoil after they feel cold to the touch. A flash of alarm goes across your eyes, before you scowl down with a scolding growl.
“Ack, your scales feel freezing right now!” you hiss. “How are you two not bothered by this?! Come on by the fire and warm up right now! It’s not good for young dragons like you to be this cold.”
“Aren’t there those ‘vent’ thingies we can just lay on?” your elder child asks, giving a sheepish grin.
You decide to put your foot down and slip past your children, nudging them forward with a sharp harrumph. They squirm briefly and you sigh to yourself expecting them to put up a fuss.
“Nonsense, you’ll stay warmer huddled up with me,” you insist. “Why back when I lived in the wilds, I’d do that every winter with the other Druddigon that I lived around.”
The pair stop fighting back for a moment, before they turn and look up at you with puzzled frowns.
“In that tower north of the town that you and Duke talk about?” your elder child asks. “Why on earth would Druddigon want to live there?”
“Yeah, there’s no fireplaces in there to stay warm with!” your younger child insists. “Are there?”
Well, it’d common practice to occasionally break brumation to warm the ground with a gout of dragonfire and stave off the cold that way. But such practices don’t mix well with the flooring of human dens, especially ones fashioned from this fuzzy ‘carpet’ underfoot, so you opt not to give your kids ideas just yet.
“No, but there’s a lot of Pokémon like you and me there, and others that are friends to them like your friends with your trainers,” you explain. “It’s a very, very special place that a lot of other dragons elsewhere in Unova would be jealous about coming from.”
Your Second of Two bats his wings tilts his head with a puzzled frown in reply.
“Huh? How come?” he asks. “I know you’ve said it’s a special place… but why would that make the Pokémon there friends with one another.”
… Maybe this was just the break you needed to wrangle them over. And the tale answering his question is one that you and the other Druddigon from your home always took pride in.
“Well, it’d be a bit hard to tell you the story running and jumping around, you chuckle. “Come with me by the hearth and I’ll tell it to you, sound fair?”
They murmur in agreement and follow you back to the fireside. You settle in against the warmed carpet, and so do they, scooting up against your hide. You see them stretch their wings and shift to try and steal the heat from the fireplace. If you can just keep them here a couple minutes, they’ll surely be too content to want to give it up.
And so, you look down as your First of Two paws at you, and turns his snout up with a curious blink.
“So, how did Druddigon like you wind up living in that tower?”
There… are a number of versions of that story that go about, among humans and Pokémon alike since it’s not just Druddigon who came to Dragonspiral Tower. Though you decide to focus just them, after all, it should be just long enough to hold them until they start to nod off.
And it’s always been a matter of pride for you, as a story of your and your children’s kind.
“Well, long, long ago, there were gods that lived among humans and Pokémon in this land. Gods who were dragons, like you and me,” you begin. “Back in those times, the tower was built as a sanctuary by humans who worshipped them, along with the help of Golett and Golurk who lived among them, all faithful friends and helpers who showered them with tributes of food and treasure.”
“Wait, but I thought the tower was built for a god,” your younger child cuts in.
You catch yourself, since the story behind how Dragonspiral Tower came to be the roost of one god is an unhappy tale involving ruin by fire and lightning. You’re… not sure that your children need to hear that story. Or at least not at their present age.
“It’s… complicated to explain, and a story for another day since it came sometime well after the first Druddigon moved in,” you insist. “But the point is that at the time it was built for two who shared it as a den, much like we share this one together.”
“But wouldn’t those dragons already have plenty of friends already?” your First of Two asks. “You just said there were a bunch of humans and Golett, weren’t they?”
“Yeah, and dad says that dragons like him normally like having places of their own for a den that they don’t have to share.”
You sigh to yourself as your children’s energy is slower to wane than you’d thought. Perhaps if your mate were here, this would be an easier task. But he’s with his own human and far away at the moment, so this is a matter that you must go alone, and keep your story going.
“Well… yes, but the gods’ den was so big that it was a bit lonely. And even with the friends the humans provided, they didn’t think like them,” you insist. “They wanted friends that would know what it was like to bask in the sun, of the thrill of finding a treasure and showing it to others. And so it was that the gods asked for the humans to find them additional friends who would be dragons like them.”
You linger briefly expecting your children to pepper you with more questions, only to see that they’re glancing at you in rapt attention. You quietly sigh in relief that you won’t have more to explain just yet and continue on with your tale.
“And so it was that the ancients that built the tower went all through Unova searching for dragons for them to be friends and helpers for them, to stand guard over the grounds and accept the treasures brought to them by visitors. They first brought forth Haxorus and their kin,” you say. “They stood tall and proud, and felled their foes with a mighty chop of their tusks… and as dragons who didn’t eat much meat while they were younger, struck the ancients as ideal companions.”
You trail off a bit for dramatic effect, and give an affected, disappointed shake of your head. Much as your own mother did when recounting this tale to you so many moons ago.
“Unfortunately they were a bit too open to fight, both with the Pokémon already there at the tower and with each other, and day and night, they kept quarreling over who would be highest among themselves as guardians,” you continue. “Things went on and on to the point where the gods themselves couldn’t sleep until one day, they bellowed their displeasure and chased the Haxorus away from the tower with fire and thunder nipping at their tails.”
Your children jostle against you and turn their heads up, pawing at you with worried grimaces.
“... Wait, but dad’s a Haxorus and he’s not like that,” your elder child insists. “... Is he?”
“And… is this god still mad at him then?” your younger asks.
You flinch briefly and bite your tongue. That wasn’t at all what you wanted your children to take from that part of the story! You sit up entirely, waving your claws vigorously in protest as you speak back to them.
“No! No! Not at all! It’s just that of the dragons that were brought before the gods, those Haxorus didn’t understand the importance of the duty they were entrusted with and all left a bad first impression as a result,” “The gods that roost there didn’t hold a grudge against all of them. It’d have been awful for most dragons in this land if they did, especially for the Hydreigon and their kin who took the Haxorus’ place afterwards.”
Your children jolt up with a start themselves and sit up, pulling their wings in and looking up nervously at you.
“... Wait, Hydreigon?” your Second of Two asks. “But why on earth would the gods want Pokémon so scary watching over their den?”
“Well, being scary’s not a bad thing all the time. After all, there’s plenty of Pokémon that would call you or me scary, and a scary guard can help chase away others that mean you harm,” you explain. “But part of being a guard for someone else is that you still need to be kindly to their guests, which the Hydreigon and their kin… weren’t.”
You look at your claws, and decide that while you’re still seated… perhaps a bit of acting to stir your children’s imagination is in order. You hold your arms out and curl your claws in almost like mouths, spreading your wings to mimic their appearances.
“When the Hydreigon came, they too fought amongst each other, and they stripped much of the surrounding forests bare to feed themselves. Worse still, many of them nursed grudges against the humans who summoned them from quarrels past,” you say, flashing your fangs for ominous effect. “And as the gods’ new guardians, they took every opportunity they could to lord over the nearby humans and their companions. To the point where others stopped visiting the gods because they were too afraid of their guards and how they’d treat them.”
You see your children scoot in towards each other and hold onto each other, visibly shivering and wide-eyed. That’s probably a sign to reel things in. After all, this is supposed to be a happy story, not a frightening one.
“After seeing their visitors dwindle along with their gifts of treasure, the gods once again bellowed their displeasure and chased the Hydreigon away from the tower with fire and thunder nipping at their tails.”
That seems to do the trick as your children calm down and settle in again, your First of Two blinking with a curious raise of his eye.
“How many other dragons were brought to the tower anyways?”
“All the ones that could be found from Unova,” you explain. “All of which caused their own troubles when brought over.”
You rise to your feet entirely. There was quite a list of other dragons that failed to secu moving your wings and limbs as you try to mimic the forms of each one.
“The Flygon would keep digging up the stones set up about the tower. The Altaria would sing and trill at inappropriate times. The Salamence would spend more time flying about than standing guard and burn their surroundings when angered,” you finish, with your wings held flat and wide. “But in the end, each and every one of them did two things that wore the gods’ patience thin…”
“They kept fighting with each other and the Pokémon and humans who were already there?”
You turn back and look at your children, with your elder finishing your words before you can finish with a quiet yawn. You settle back down in the carpet and give a small smile, content that thus far, your scheme has been bearing fruit.
“That’s right, and like every group of dragons before, the gods would chase them away with fire and lightning,” you reply, nodding. “And so it was that the late fall came, just before the first snowflakes fall from the sky, when the first Druddigon came.”
“Wait, but why would things turn out differently for them?” your Second of Two asks. “Since if all those other dragons made the gods upset… what made them so special?”
“Well, part of it is that they came for different reasons,” you explain, casting a glance out at the snowy world outside through the living room window.
“... Unlike the other dragons, the Druddigon had lost their home in the mountains earlier that year and searched for another outside of it during the warm months,” you tell them. “During their wanderings, they had heard stories of a tower that was to be given away as a den for dragons, so long as they impressed the gods and their guardians inside.”
“But how did they do that?” he presses.
“By working together!” you chuckle back. “After hearing of the earlier dragons’ squabbles, the Druddigon’s elder dragons gathered their ranks together and declared that if they would merely work together, that the den would be there for all.”
Well, things were undoubtedly more complicated than that, but you’ve always been fondest of the version of the story your mother and the other Druddigon you lived around told most frequently. And thus, you stick to it and continue on.
“And so they bravely marched forth, young and old, weak and strong, meeting the gods’ guardians in combat and fighting them to a draw,” you say, smiling back. “Their strength and teamwork so impressed the gods that they offered them the honor of guardianship at once.”
Your children’s eyes are excited now as they murmur to themselves about how exciting it must have been to impress such strong Pokémon when even the likes of mighty Haxorus and Hydreigon fell short. Their eyelids are starting to grow heavy, and content that your storytelling has done its work, you start to curl up towards the fire and give a content smile.
“And that was how Druddigon like us came to live in Dragonspiral Tower.”
That seems as good a note as any to wind things down, and to give the last nudge needed to push your children off towards sleep. You start to reach out to pull them in towards you, when a quiet, disapproving voice speaks up from behind.
“... That’s not how I remember the version of the story that I heard, Neela. And I grew up around Dragonspiral Tower myself.”
You stiffen up after hearing the name your humans use for you called out and turn to see a Mienshao approach with a small, quiet frown. That’s ‘Duke’ as your humans call him, which you suppose has rubbed off on you from habit. He’s the Pokémon who showed you the ropes when you started partnering with the humans of this family, and he carries wisdom from both life among humans and the time before.
It’s the second one that has you a bit worried, as you speak up to try and brush him off.
“Ah, yes. Well, it’s folklore,” you insist. “There’s usually different versions that go around.”
“Maybe so, but even that’s definitely not how most versions of the story I heard went,” the Mienshao retorts, folding his arms. “Especially the part about how the Druddigon came into the tower. It’s not quite as simple a story as that.”
You grimace as the children are suddenly more awake now, and much to your chagrin, much as children tend to do, your younger child lets curiosity get the better of him and he glances up at the Mienshao.
“Oh? What was different about the version you heard?”
Duke doesn’t frown, but even so, his expression remains firm as he squats to lower himself down to the youngsters’ level.
“Well, their purpose for coming was a bit different in the one I usually hear. In the wilds, Druddigon don’t just hunt for food, but also for dens,” Duke explains. “When they come across one that’s pleasing to them, sometimes they will try and drive off its owner to claim it for themselves.”
He shakes his head as you tighten your claws against the the carpet and quietly cringe. You’ve heard the version of the story Duke’s telling too, and it’s not one
“And that was what brought them to Dragonspiral Tower. They had been wandering from the mountains, when in the late fall on Icirrus’ Moor, they came across the tower. They saw that it was a pleasing den, but much too big for any of them to take alone, so their elders said: ‘let us join claws and hunt this den from its inhabitants for ourselves’.”
Your children are starting to waver now, as that sense of wonder you worked so hard to instill leaves their eyes and a doubtful unease takes its place.
“... Wait, but aren’t there Golett and Golurk at the tower still?” your elder child asks. “Doesn’t that mean that the Druddigon lost?”
“Well, yes and no. Your mother is right about them fighting the defenders to a draw, and some even say they gained the upper hand,” the Mienshao says, before shaking his head.
“The problem was that that day the gods came back to roost,” the Fighting-type continues. “When they found out about what these strangers had done to their companions, they were understandably displeased.”
Your grumble under your breath about how Duke just had to step in and ruin your story right before the kids were about to sleep. Their wings are now drooped and their heads held low in disappointment, as your Second of Two uneasily speaks up to ask:
“What… happened then?”
“Well, in the version of the story I heard, the gods grew enraged and bellowed their displeasure and swooped down, throwing fire and lightning before the Druddigon,” Duke explained. “It is said the Druddigon grew sore afraid in the gods’ presence, to the point where some of them even fell ill out of fright—”
You’ve had enough. You don’t understand why Duke is doing this since as your mentor, it’s not like him to just embarrass you like this in front of others. You let out a sharp glare and growl your displeasure.
“Alright Duke, we don’t need to hear the rest,” you snap. “I just wanted to give the kids a nice story before they went to sleep before you had to step in and ruin things.”
He falls quiet for a moment, before looking over with a small smile and a wave of a wispy-furred paw.
“Then wouldn’t it make sense for me to end before the story’s over now would it?” he asks. “After all, while the truth of any story doesn’t always show Pokémon like us at our best, in this case, of all the dragons that came before them, it was indeed the Druddigon that the gods chose to help protect their tower.
You blink and realize that Duke must be telling a version of the story of how Dragonspiral Tower came to have Druddigon that was different than you thought. The children blink in confusion as they
“They… did?” your Second of Two asks. “But why?”
“Yeah, so far, your story just made it sound like the Druddigon were mean to the Pokémon that were already there!” your First of Two protests. “And then grew scaredy after they made the gods mad. Why on earth would the gods want them after all that?”
“Well, most Pokémon would be scared in their situation, dragon or not. But in the end, amidst the roaring and the fire and lightning, the whole time, the Druddigon did not yield or turn away or flee like the other dragons,” the Mienshao explained. “They alone stood firm, if visibly quaking.”
You blink at the Mienshao’s answer, and your features ease a bit. He sees them himself, before he raises a paw and continues on with his tale.
“With embers and sparks dancing about them, the gods held back their power briefly and demanded of the Druddigon: ‘Why did you come here and harm our guardians? Did you really think that you could best the gods’ might?’”
Duke trails off briefly, studying your reaction and your children’s. He sees that that curious spark has returned to their eyes. Even if they’re not as excited as they were for your version of the story, they don’t look disappointed anymore.
“At the gods’ demand, one of the Druddigon from the front fell to his belly with a heartful plea: ‘Lords of Black and White, have pity! We sought your tower for ourselves because our dens were hunted from us and we have none to shield ourselves from winter’s snow!’”
You see the children stiffen up and glance out the window towards the snow through the window and wince at the sight. Being stuck in such weather without shelter all winter would be the end of many a dragon, and while this too is in the version of events you were worried Duke would bring up… somehow his take feels like it doesn’t make light of those Druddigon of bygone times.
“The other Druddigon joined in and with one voice desperately echoed their companion’s plea, explaining that if they turned away, they would surely die. If not from the gods’ wrath, then from the snow. The gods were moved by their plight lingered for a moment, before one, their identity lost to time spoke up.”
This time, Duke brings his eyes to yours, and runs a paw on it, giving a small smile down at you as words that surprise you come from his mouth
“‘Stand tall, brave and noble dragons. For you have displayed unity and humility where all others before you failed, and did not yield even in the face of certain death.’”
You blink up at your mentor. You can’t tell if he’s just saying this to make you feel better or not. In tellings of this tale you’ve heard where the teller accused the Druddigon of acting craven, the gods didn’t say anything like that to them.
“For a fleeting moment, the Druddigon were at a loss, when the other of the gods spoke up in stern warning: ‘So long as you dwell in our domains, you shall never claim this land as its masters but defend it on our behalf. You shall live amongst our other servants as equals. They shall be your allies and you shall be theirs,’” the Mienshao continued. “And so they lowered their heads and marched forth, and took their place among Dragonspiral Tower’s guardians.”
The Mienshao stoops down and pats at your children’s crests, before turning to you with a knowing smile.
“Considering how there’s Druddigon that live out there to this day, I’d think that they’ve done a pretty good job so far,” he says. “Don’t you think, Neela?”
You should probably be more annoyed at the way Duke undercut your story, but at the same time, even if it could’ve done without some of the less flattering details, it has its own charm. Like your own that you’ve passed on to your children, it’s a story of a lineage to be proud of: courage and unity winning your ancestors an honor most Pokémon could only dream of.
Your children are tired now and your elder child is now pawing at his eyes, while your second stretches out against the carpet, before looking up with a curious murmur.
“Wait, but Duke? There weren’t any Mienshao in that story at all,” he remarks. “Were they not there already when the Druddigon came?”
You stiffen up at your child’s question. Even as it is told among its Druddigon, the story of how Mienshao came to be is one that doesn’t reflect them at their finest. About how for all their strength and valor, they ultimately needed help making good on their duties in the midst of winter’s chill. Duke sees your tension, with a chuckling shake of his head, he opts to spare you further embarrassment for tonight.
“That’s a story for another night, little one,” your mentor says. “You look tired, and it’s important for a young dragon like you to stay warm and rest on a cold night like tonight.”
The Mienshao gets up and drifts off, for his own corner elsewhere in the house that he claims in at night. You settle in with your children, curling up together beside the fire as your Second of Two paws at your chest and looks into your eyes.
“I liked your version of the story more, mom,” he tells you. “Though will we ever get to go to that tower ourselves?”
You look down, and nuzzle at your child as a knowing smile comes over your maw.
“We will, sweetie. When you and your brother are a bit older.”
You curl up with your children beside the fire and begin to drift off. For a fleeting moment, you wonder to yourself… between your story and Duke’s, which of the two is closer to the truth? Duke’s version of the tale you knew is apparently closer to the ones most others tell, so does that mean that your wasn’t right?
You think back to Duke’s reassurance at the end and ultimately decide to leave things be. Whatever really happened, those Druddigon won the gods’ trust in the end.
It is a lineage you and your children carry, and one that you all can be proud of.
I'm surprised how long it took for this anthology to receive reviews at all. Either way, it's a perfect idea! Although I do agree it's a travesty there's no Alolan Exeguttor story!
I'll review each story individually. Easy to fit reading in a whole one shot during lunch and such.
A Guarding Dragon
"And so it was for you that day, on the same old dirt lane, next to the same old apple orchard, all under the same old sky under the drifting clouds." this line, in particular, was really confusing.
I think your repetitions of "same old" worked for establishing how familiar the location is for the Flapple, but I felt the description could do more to set tone and immersion - it was pretty "there's an orchard and a sign and a table", etc.
I felt that it explained that Flapple's behaviour is like a dragon too directly, specifically the line "since you were a dragon." I think something like "...look bigger and remind the pair that stole from this modest dragon hoard, they did so at their own peril." would have been more subtle and not on the nose while still getting the point across.
I really liked how Flapple did act like a dragon and such. It was both cute and really engaging. A very fun, silly tale. It was pretty cool to see! I also thought the length really matched the story being told.
Also, I think this is the most evil thing I have ever seen depicted of Team Yell.
Heyy! I read #2 awhile ago but I procrastinated the review but here we are :3.
I have to say, so far Like a Dragon has been super enjoyable to read! The tone is nice, really like its simple approaches to dragons. I'm still finding trouble what to say of the chapter but I just gotta remember, it's a shorter chapter, it's okay to say less x)
A Dragon's Ferocity
Early on there was a bit of an issue with clarity. This line in particular - "you were told that as balance to the toll of tooth and claw the gods allowed Pokémon to take on humans that interfered in their affairs, that the gods also saw it fit to allow humans to similarly punish Pokémon that did likewise to theirs… and of those of the Pokémon that made cause with them" - I got really confused by what it was saying at the end. I feel like you were trying to add nuance but it didn't need the nuance. I believe there's another sentence that's a bit confusing but I can't remember what it was. Other than those two moments, I am finding it really clear to understand what's going on, which is super nice, not every story I find is that way.
I feel like the Hydreigon reminds the audience he's a Hydreigon too much.
I feel so sad for the Hydreigon. Yeah he'll never mention what happened to another soul but I got to read it and I'm feeling the pain of cringe he's experiencing. Nooo he's such a fearsome dragon, let him have some pride after this ;_;.
But seriously it's hard to articulate the good points but as a whole it's very cohesive and tight. You used the two thousands words you had for this story really well.
I'm surprised how long it took for this anthology to receive reviews at all. Either way, it's a perfect idea! Although I do agree it's a travesty there's no Alolan Exeguttor story!
Such is life when these one-shots start out as drabbles. The new batch of one-shots is a bit less compact than the original set, but altogether doing drabbles helps to both keep things short and a bit spontaneous. Now I just need to apply it to my serial writings somehow. ^^;
A Guarding Dragon
"And so it was for you that day, on the same old dirt lane, next to the same old apple orchard, all under the same old sky under the drifting clouds." this line, in particular, was really confusing.
I think your repetitions of "same old" worked for establishing how familiar the location is for the Flapple, but I felt the description could do more to set tone and immersion - it was pretty "there's an orchard and a sign and a table", etc.
Hrm. I’ll put some thought into this one since I admittedly replied to this review fairly late at night. I doubt I’ll blow this section up too much length-wise, but something as simple as a few adjectives here and there seems like it could potentially help ease up some of the undescriptiveness, at least.
I’m less sure how to handle the confusing delivery of that line in particular, but if you are open to throw some ideas around, I’d be down for shooting you a line in DMs.
I felt that it explained that Flapple's behaviour is like a dragon too directly, specifically the line "since you were a dragon." I think something like "...look bigger and remind the pair that stole from this modest dragon hoard, they did so at their own peril." would have been more subtle and not on the nose while still getting the point across.
I liked the general direction of the suggestion here, but took a third option that kept the emphasis on “yours”. Hopefully it still assuages some of those misgivings you had.
I really liked how Flapple did act like a dragon and such. It was both cute and really engaging. A very fun, silly tale. It was pretty cool to see! I also thought the length really matched the story being told.
Also, I think this is the most evil thing I have ever seen depicted of Team Yell.
I mean, they’re not exactly supervillains, but they are based off of soccer/football hooligans. I figured a bit of shoplifting and petty theft would be right up their alley.
Though glad to hear you had fun with the tale. Like Flapple is more normally one of those “afterthought” Dragon-types, so it was fun to try and get into the head of one and remind the reader that it’s still a dragon at the end of the day.
Heyy! I read #2 awhile ago but I procrastinated the review but here we are :3.
Nah, it’s alright, I’ve been falling behind on my own review goals as-is.
I have to say, so far Like a Dragon has been super enjoyable to read! The tone is nice, really like its simple approaches to dragons. I'm still finding trouble what to say of the chapter but I just gotta remember, it's a shorter chapter, it's okay to say less x)
I mean, to your credit, you’re still turning up handy suggestions even for these smaller stories. Though glad to hear that you’ve been having fun with them.
A Dragon's Ferocity
Early on there was a bit of an issue with clarity. This line in particular - "you were told that as balance to the toll of tooth and claw the gods allowed Pokémon to take on humans that interfered in their affairs, that the gods also saw it fit to allow humans to similarly punish Pokémon that did likewise to theirs… and of those of the Pokémon that made cause with them" - I got really confused by what it was saying at the end. I feel like you were trying to add nuance but it didn't need the nuance. I believe there's another sentence that's a bit confusing but I can't remember what it was. Other than those two moments, I am finding it really clear to understand what's going on, which is super nice, not every story I find is that way.
Hrm. This one, I’ll probably have to take a rain check on to think of how to address. It’s essentially attempting to address a set of “rules” among Pokémon of the viewpoint character’s setting of “don’t mess with the non-wilds and their humans, and they won’t mess with you back”.
I feel like the Hydreigon reminds the audience he's a Hydreigon too much.
Hrm. That feels a bit like the criticism you had regarding A Guarding Dragon being a little too on the nose at times about its protagonist’s dragon-yness. If you’ve got a few concrete examples in mind, drop me a line and I’ll see if I can play around with them.
I feel so sad for the Hydreigon. Yeah he'll never mention what happened to another soul but I got to read it and I'm feeling the pain of cringe he's experiencing. Nooo he's such a fearsome dragon, let him have some pride after this ;_;.
I mean, dragons sometimes take Ls to other dragons, nothing to it. After all, it’s even in Ampharos’ name… in Japan, anyways.
But seriously it's hard to articulate the good points but as a whole it's very cohesive and tight. You used the two thousands words you had for this story really well.
And glad to hear that you felt that it was a complete package in such a short run. I sometimes struggle with being able to belt things out in a concise manner, though sometimes it’s nice to just step back from the epics and belt out a cute little story here and there about a scary-looking hydra getting owned by a dragon-y sheep. [bleplithe]
Though thanks a bunch for these reviews, and I’ll be looking forward to sending you a few more reviews of Into the Moon your way in the coming weeks. ^^
Today’s one-shot was actually a bit more spur-of-the-moment since I’ve got a few longer updates from other projects this month that’ll be keeping me nice and busy for the rest of this month. Though I figured that I already had the story ready to yeet out and spit-shined things, so it was good enough for me, especially since it was a chance for me to finally pen out “the prompt that got away” for me from the first batch.
Though take a bit of a break from the Unovan, and into the eyes of a more offbeat dragon this time.
You’re sitting in the shade of your trainer’s tent, the desert sand rubbing against your scales as you focus your eyes on a glowing light coming from a bulky metal contraption. It’s supposed to be like those machines that humans like your trainer use to teach Pokémon new moves—through those “tee-yem”s of theirs—except it’s much older.
In spite of its age, this device supposedly behaves much the same, even if you were dubious at first from its appearance. It’s much bigger, and the discs it uses are fashioned from a black material that feels nothing like a “tee-yem”. From the way the machine is dented and rusted in various places, part of you isn’t convinced that it’ll actually work. Especially here of all places: in the deserts south of Stow-on-Side, where much newer human machines regularly meet their end from the elements.
The light cuts out and the disc on the machine stops spinning. A set of human hands, belonging to a younger man with a brimmed hat grabs it and lifts it up. He looks at you as he takes the disc, which now has scratches and grooves that it didn’t have before being spun, and looks down at you with an expectant smile.
“There! That should do it. What do you think, Gilbert? Feeling a bit more dragon-y right now?”
You grumble back about how it feels more like you’ve been staring into a light for too long and turn away. You suppose you ought to be happier at the moment. While this desert is not the same place in Galar where you grew up, the temperature is warm here and the sun is strong—perfect conditions for a Heliolisk like you to go and bask.
Except, you are unsure how much luck you will have to do so. You have come here today with your trainer for work, which unlike travels during his 'holidays', will keep you on your toes. If it’s like the other journeys of this sort you two made in the past few days closer to the human Route further north, you’ll be too busy to really be able to stop and enjoy your surroundings. It doesn’t make much difference since the words you tell your trainer go over his head, as Pokémon’s words tend to for humans. He tilts his head at you with a puzzled frown, before motioning over at the opening to his tent.
“... If you’re worried about picking up the move, try breathing in deeply and letting things out from your throat, Gilbert,” he insists. “The manual was a bit tatty, but the Technical Record said that’s how a Dragon Pulse is supposed to be used.”
… That was hardly the point that you were trying to make, but after seeing your trainer breathe in and then out with his mouth opened wide, you glance at the label on the scratched disc and notice that among the human glyphs on its bluish label, there is a circular design that looks vaguely like a dragon’s head.
Perhaps if you humor your trainer, he’ll opt to let things rest a bit so that way you can get in a good bask. You mimic your trainer’s action when much to your surprise, heat builds at the back of your throat. Your mouth flops open wide, more from surprise than intention and a fiery blue ray sails out. It’s thin and makes it about halfway to some desert rocks a few paces from the tent before it abruptly cuts out, barely singing their surface.
You tilt your head skeptically at your trainer in his brimmed hat as he stumbles back with a start. You gathered that he was unsure earlier about how you two would fare searching around in this place when there are no shortage of Pokémon that dwell in it that are wholly unfazed by your sparks. They were a handful to deal with back closer to the Route, enough so that he felt that you needed to be able to wield another power to deal with them in order to safely venture further out.
He’s smiling over your attempt, at least, but you just don’t understand what he expects from you. Since you don’t see how you’re going to be able to make a difference with a feeble power like that. Was there none related to water he could’ve taught you instead?
“... I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it with a bit of practice. And who knows? If we’re lucky, maybe you won’t need to use Dragon Pulse at all.”
You have overheard your trainer’s friends sometimes tell him that he’s “tempting fate” when he talks like that. You don’t know how true it is, but it’s probably for the best to stop him while he’s ahead. Just in case.
You grunt and press on out of the tent with a sigh. You stop and stretch your limbs and try to get the blood in your legs pumping when you glance back into the tent. You see your trainer stop and grab a bag with a few tools set beside it. A pick, a shovel, a camera.
Tools to try and find that treasure that you two have been seeking.
When most humans or perhaps Pokémon like dragons think of treasure, they usually think of shining gems or the like, but the treasure your trainer seeks is apparently bygone remains left behind by humans from the distant past. Quite a few exist in the ruins on Route 6 proper, with the remnants of ancient buildings, and tall statues of people and Pokémon alike. But for reasons you don’t understand, none of them were to your trainer’s liking and thus your search has taken the two of you southward, off of the stony bluffs and deep into the sands.
Your trainer seems to think that you’d be excited to be here. And while it is a pleasing place to be in with the warmth and the sun’s rays soaking in and invigorating you much as they’re doing right now as you sit your frill outstretched…
“Heeeeey! Gilbert! Did you find anything?”
You’re constantly moving about and it keeps you from being able to stop and enjoy it. You pull in your frill with a sigh, your latest attempt at a bask cut short yet again. You rise to your feet from a small pile of rocks and trudge up a dune to meet your trainer. He looks at you expectantly, then down at the tracks in your wake, and then he lets out a disappointed sigh.
“Yeah, I didn’t find anything either, Gilbert. I suppose just give that Dragon Pulse of yours a try and let’s move on.”
You tilt your head at your trainer when he points off along the ridge. He repeats that phrase of his, when it occurs to you that he wants you to practice your new move again. You oblige, since if you put up a good showing, perhaps you can use it to convince your trainer to let you bask without making him think you’re tired and pulling you into your Pokéball.
You build up heat at the back of your throat, and once again, the stream of blue dragonfire comes out. At once, you’re underwhelmed by how thin its ray is, and your aim is off, as the fiery pulse finds its mark in the sand and kicks up a small spray in its wake.
Much to your surprise, a sharp yelp follows your target practice. You turn your head and train your eyes at the sand cloud, where you see a small yellow-and-black figure tumble away from your blow.
“... Oops. Didn’t see that Helioptile there,” your trainer says, grimacing. “Hope we didn’t scare it too badly.”
Well, you definitely weren’t trying to do that, especially since it wouldn’t take that much to rile up one of the wilds that lives in these parts. You grimace and dart over, hoping to catch the Helioptile and offer an apology for the scare. By the time you arrive, he’s long gone, with the only sign of his presence being hurried footprints in the sand away, along with a black-and-yellow colored rock lying a short distance from the Dragon Pulse’s point of impact.
You stoop down and pick it up as you notice orange sections between the black and yellow sides, eyeing the strange rock with a curious blink. Your trainer seems to have noticed you, since you hear his boots crunch against the sand and his voice call out for you.
“Oh? What do you have there, Gilbert?”
You turn and pass the stone along to your trainer, as he raises it and inspects it. He flips the colored surface towards himself, revealing the other side of the rock to have a ruddy color. Much like the same sandstone that the ruins further up the bluffs are made of.
“Huh, strange. It looks like someone painted one end of it.”
Your trainer pockets the stone when it dawns on you: that that strange stone might actually be just what you’re looking for. After all, the treasure your trainer couldn’t find from all those past ruins were ancient paintings of some sort. Except… if the stone was a fragment of an ancient painting, why was there neither hide nor scale of any ruins nearby where it could have come from?
Could they be buried under the sand? Pokémon burrow into the earth sometimes to nest, so perhaps these ancient humans did the same? You eye your surroundings, noting the Helioptile’s panicked tracks running off from where your Dragon Pulse struck. You don’t see anything there, when you turn to check the other side of the dune and abruptly stiffen up.
There’s footsteps there too, similarly frantic and looking like they were made in a hurry, along with parts where the sand is smooth and spread out in a plume, as if it was abruptly shot out.
Like there would be if someone was giving chase to the Helioptile you ran into.
“Huh? Gilbert? What are you-?”
All of a sudden the sand below your feet erupts. You and your trainer yelp, and as you tumble down the face of the dune, you throw out your frill and cast sparks all around you. They do nothing other than to draw a mocking hiss about how your kind evidently doesn’t learn after evolving. You freeze and turn, where your eyes fall on a Sandaconda approaching with fangs bared.
Your body tenses up and your mouth drops open with fright. You’ve never met a Sandaconda that wasn’t trained, but you know enough about them to know that in nature, they hunt for prey. Your mind turns back to the Helioptile’s tracks as you see the way she eyes you with a piercing stare as you realize she’s changed her target:
To you.
You throw your frill out to make yourself larger and try to muster the largest-sounding voice you can, which despite your best efforts still comes out with a nervous stammer. You insist that you are companions with a human and you are not hers to take. That it is by divine providence that you and her leave each other’s lives be.
She snorts up a small amount of sand and gives a mocking sneer in reply as her words come out dripping with a venomous threat that chills your scales: that you’ve already forfeited your protections, since you and your human have intervened in the ways of the wild and cheated her out of her prey.
Whatever thoughts you have of trying to plead your case are cut off by the Sandaconda rearing up and throwing her body down to the sand. It strikes the ground with a stomping tremor and promptly throws you off your feet. You fall onto your side and hear your trainer’s voice, trying to get up with legs that now feel stiff and uneasy. You feel scales brush against yours, and in a panic, you throw sparks once again. It does nothing and in a flash, the Sandaconda’s body wraps around yours and starts to tighten as you thrash and frantically try to pull yourself free.
“G-Gilbert! Use Dragon Pulse!”
You hear your trainer’s cry as you start to feel the air get squeezed out of your lungs, and without thinking, you build up dragonfire in your mouth, spewing it at the Sandaconda’s body just below your snout. She shrieks in pain and loses her grip on you with her coils as you dart off, gasping for air and scrabbling on all fours as you fight to keep balance. You briefly see her slither off the other way, her own movements frantic and unfocused as your trainer’s legs fill your vision. He raises his Pokéball and shakily taps the center, as in a flash of light the desert surrounding you melts away.
About an hour later, you’re back in the tent where the disc reader was. Lying on your side against an open sleeping bag and still shivering from your ordeal as your trainer applies a Potion to damaged scales along your legs.
“I’m sorry, Gilbert. I should’ve known it was a bad idea to go this far off the Route on our own.”
He finishes, and you warily sit up, giving an uneasy paw at some raw patches on your body. The entire time, your trainer’s expression is downcast, and every time your eyes meet, you can see a flash of guilt in them. All his thoughts about his treasure have faded away after the shock of your close call.
It’s moments like these that you wish he could understand you better. You try to tell him that it wasn’t his fault and that it was thanks to the power he helped you learn and his direction that you were able to escape.
… You just wish that you had a way to repay the favor.
“Helio!”
Your trainer turns and freezes, which prompts you to follow his gaze. There at the front of the tent is a quartet of Helioptile, tense and poised for battle. One of them steps to the front with his side frills flared as he levels a claw and cries out to you:
To give him back his treasure. That he did not brave a predator’s territory to retrieve it only to see it be stolen by you.
“... Gilbert? Do you know what’s going on here? Why’s that Helioptile pointing at you like that?”
The voice of the Helioptile at the head of the group comes out shaky, and a closer examination you see that he’s trembling. His companions appear to be similarly nervous, much in the same way that you were when you faced the Sandaconda. Clearly, they’re worried about their odds of besting you in battle.
Fortunately for you and them, you think that you can resolve things on a more peaceful note. You reach a hand into your trainer’s pocket and fish around. He raises his voice with a start, but you brush it off—it’ll be easier to explain afterwards—and pull out the black-and-yellow stone from earlier.
“Lisk?”
You take it and show it to the Helioptile, who confirms that it is indeed his treasure. You apologize for the earlier incident and are about to stoop down to return it, when you realize there’s something that you should ask him first.
“He… lio?”
You ask where the Helioptile found the stone, to which he and his companions reply that it came from the “Heliolisk of the Stone Wall”. You notice your trainer casting a befuddled look between you and the wild Pokémon. One of the Helioptile tilts his head as well and asks how you as a Heliolisk don’t know of the Heliolisk of the Stone Wall yourself.
That one is easy to explain: you’re not from around here.
You hand the stone off and there’s a moment of hesitance among the Helioptile before their leader turns and motions for you to follow with his head.
“Tile! Tile!”
Those “Heliolisk of the Stone Wall” happen to be close to here, he tells you. And if you wish to have a treasure of your own, perhaps there’d be another one there for you to claim… even if it might require a bit of digging since the site periodically gets buried by the desert sand.
… You’re not sure how your trainer will take this, since blindly trusting the word of Pokémon—wild Pokémon at that—which you’ve just met is quite the leap of faith. But nevertheless, you tug at your trainer’s arm and motion off after the Helioptile yourself. It takes him a little bit, but it dawns on him as to what your request is.
“Huh? You want me to follow after them? What’s going on, Gilbert?”
The Helioptile already start scampering off. You start after them, only to turn back to face your trainer. You hop on your legs and call out, motioning for to him to follow.
He gets up, unsure of what to make of things. As are you, but at this point, what do you two have to lose?
About ten minutes later, you’re entering a set of ruined walls, half-buried in the sand, with an entrance through a ruined doorway with a clearance so low that you have to stoop to all fours and your human has to crawl through it to enter. You make your way through and spot the Helioptile who then point off at a sand-covered wall, just in time for your trainer to catch up and follow along when he catches a glimpse of a corner.
At once, his eyes light up in excitement.
“Ah! Gilbert! This is it! This is one of those murals we’ve been looking for!”
You turn and follow your trainer’s eyes as he comes across flecks of paint in a half-buried chunk of wall. He calls you over and fetches a few brushes which he uses to start removing the sand and you join in with careful strokes from your paws. Every stroke takes a little more of it away, and as the sand clears, you begin to see worn depictions of squarish human structures and humans in strange garb. You breathe out a sigh of relief, happy that all your efforts over the past few days alongside your trainer haven’t been in vain when your digits brush away some more sand, you come across a glimpse of black and yellow.
“H-Helio?!”
You cry out in surprise as you uncover a picture of a Heliolisk alongside the painted human, with a missing chip along its neck. The Helioptile come over, saying that there’s more of these Heliolisk below the sand and offer to help you see them.
You accept, and as your combined efforts clear away more and more of the sand, you find yourself gaping in disbelief as you come across a growing number of paintings that resemble you on the wall. Paintings of Heliolisk and humans intermingled with one another. Others with Heliolisk marching alongside humans bearing shields and spears. One with Heliolisk standing guard over treasure as humans heap them up for counting.
There is one in particular that catches your eye: of a Heliolisk at a human warrior’s side alongside a Duraludon, spewing a ray of what looks like blue fire at a Garchomp, who is turned away and fleeing.
Is… Is that the same power that you learned today? Does it really have the strength when mastered to turn back foes that strong?
“Ah! This is exactly what I was looking for, Gilbert!”
You look up at your trainer confusedly as he comes over and stoops, patting your head.
“I had a feeling you’d like the murals when we found them. The desert civilization that used to be out here is said to have introduced Heliolisk like you to Galar, and they were particularly valued by its people.”
These people… brought your kind here? You find it a bit hard to believe, but the murals are clear. These ancients cherished your kind enough to immortalize them in their history, and some way, somehow, gave the ones that dwelled with them the strength to fight and stand among the ranks of dragons.
You can’t help but feel a glimmer of pride and subconsciously wag your tail and raise your head tall and proud. There’s a moment’s pause, when you see your trainer look away briefly, and kick uneasily at the sand.
“I… just hope that this makes up for everything. Even before what happened today, you haven’t really seemed happy with me lately.”
So your trainer noticed all this time? If only he could’ve understood your words. Perhaps this whole misunderstanding could’ve been cleared up on the first day.
It’s then that your eyes notice the sunlight coming down in the center of the ruins, through the gaping hole where the now-nonexistent roof is where the Helioptile that helped you are resting under its warmth. You make your way over, and settle in alongside them, frill flared out as you face towards the sun. You turn back to your trainer, speaking up in your tongue with a quiet chuckle.
You’ll call things even with him, you tell him. As long as you get to properly soak in the sun for once today.
Original Drabble:
Firebreathers
Heliolisk
Serpentine
Scale and Fang
Gyarados
Outrage
Dragon's Den
Proud Lineage
Scraggy
You’re sitting in the shade of your trainer’s tent, the desert sand rubbing against your scales as you look forward into a glow coming from a light from a bulky metal contraption. It’s supposed to be like those machines that humans like your trainer use to teach Pokémon new moves through their “tee-yem”s. This device supposedly behaves much the same, except it’s much bigger, the discs it uses are fashioned from a black material, and from the way the machine is dented and rusted in parts, you’re shocked if it’ll actually work. Especially here of all places, in the deserts south of Stow-on-Side, where human machines of much newer vintages regularly meet their end from the elements.
The light cuts out and the disc stops spinning. A set of human hands, belonging to a younger man with a brimmed hat grabs it. He looks at you as he takes the disc, which now has scratches and grooves it didn’t have at first, and looks down at you with an expectant smile.
“There! That should be it. What do you think, Gilbert? Feeling a bit more dragon-y right now?”
You grumble back about how it feels more like you’ve been staring into a light for too long and turn away. You suppose you ought to be happier right now. While it’s not the same place you grew up in Galar, the temperature is warm and the sun is strong, perfect conditions for a Heliolisk like you to bask.
Except, you have come here today with your trainer for work and if it’s like the other journeys of this sort closer closer to the human route further north you two have made in the past few days, you’ll be kept too busy to really be able to stop and enjoy it. It doesn’t make much difference since your words go over his head, as Pokémon’s words tend to do for humans. He tilts at you with a puzzled frown, before motioning over at the opening to his tent.
“... If you’re worried about picking up the move, try breathing in deeply and letting things out from your throat, Gilbert,” he insists. “The manual was a bit tatty, but the Technical Record said that’s how a Dragon Pulse is supposed to work.”
… That was hardly the point that you were trying to make, but after seeing your trainer breathe in and then out with his mouth opened wide, you glance at the label on the spent disc and notice that among the human glyphs on its bluish label is a circular design with something looking like a dragon’s head.
Perhaps if you humor your trainer, he’ll opt to rest a bit so that way you can get in a good bask. You mimic your trainer’s action when much to your surprise, heat builds at the back of your throat. Your mouth flops open wide, more from surprise than intention and a fiery blue ray comes out. It’s thin and makes it about halfway to some desert rocks a few paces from the tent before abruptly cutting out, barely singing the surface.
You tilt your head skeptically at the man in his brimmed hat. You gathered that he was unsure about how you two would fare going about searching in this place when Pokémon that are unfazed by your sparks. They were a handful back on the around the Route, enough so that he felt being able to wield other power to deal with them was needed to venture further out.
You just don’t understand what he expects from you. Since you don’t see how you’re going to be able to make a difference with that.
“... I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it. And who knows? If we’re lucky, maybe you won’t need it.”
You grunt and press on out of the tent with a sigh. You see your trainer stop and grab a bag with a few tools set beside it. A pick, a shovel, a camera.
Tools to try and find the treasure that he seeks.
Now, when most humans and Pokémon think of treasure, they might think of shining gems or the like, but the treasure your trainer seeks is apparently the bygone remains left behind by humans from another age. Quite a few exist in the ruins on Route 6 proper, with the remains of ancient buildings, and tall statues of people and Pokémon alike. But for reasons you don’t understand, none of them were to your trainer’s liking and thus your search has taken you two southward, off the stony bluffs and deep into the sands.
Your trainer seems to think you’d be excited to be here. And while it is a pleasing place to be in with the warmth or the sun soaking in and invigorating you…
“Heeeeey! Gilbert! Did you find anything?”
You’re constantly moving about and it keeps you from being able to stop and enjoy it. You pull in your frill with a sigh, your latest attempt at a bask cut short as you turn back from a small pile of rocks and trudge up a dune to meet your trainer. He looks at you expectantly, and then down at your tracks before he lets out a disappointed sigh.
“Hm… yeah, I didn’t find anything either. Though give that Dragon Pulse of yours a try and let’s move on.”
You tilt your head at your trainer when he points off along the ridge. He repeats that phrase—Dragon Pulse—when it occurs to you that he wants you to practice your new move again. You oblige, since if you put up a good showing, perhaps you can use it to convince your trainer to let you bask without him thinking you’re tired and pulling you into your Pokéball instead.
You build up heat at the back of your throat, and once again, the stream of blue dragonfire comes out. At once, you’re underwhelmed by how thin its ray is, and your aim is off, finding it’s mark in the sand and kicking up a small spray.
Normally that would’ve been the end of things, but this time, there’s a sharp yelp. You see a small yellow-and-black figure tumble away
“... Oops. Didn’t see that Helioptile there. Hope we didn’t scare it too bad.”
Well, you definitely weren’t trying to do that, especially since it wouldn’t take that much to rile up one of the You grimace and dart over, hoping to catch the Helioptile and offer an apology for the scare. By the time you arrive, he’s long gone, with the only sign of his presence being hurried footprints in the sand away, along with a black-and-yellow colored rock lying in it.
You stoop down and pick it up, eyeing it with a curious blink. Your trainer must’ve noticed you, since you hear his boots crunch against the sand, and his voice call out for yours.
“Oh? What do you have there, Gilbert?”
You turn and pass your finding along, as he raises it and inspects it. He flips the yellow-and-white surface towards himself, revealing the other side to be a ruddy color. Much like the sandstone in the ruins up the bluffs.
“Huh, strange. It looks like someone painted one end of it.”
Your trainer pockets the stone when it dawns on you: it might actually be just what you’re looking for. After all, the treasure your trainer apparently found all those past ruins lacking was some sort of ancient painting of some sort. Except… if it is a fragment of an ancient painting, why is there neither hide nor scale of any ruins nearby where it could have come from?
Could it be buried under the sand? Pokémon burrow into the earth sometimes to nest, so perhaps these humans did the same? You eye the surroundings, noting the Helioptile’s panicked tracks running off from where your Dragon Pulse struck. You don’t see anything there, when you turn to check the other side of the dune and abruptly stiffen up.
There’s footsteps there too, similarly frantic and looking like they were made in a hurry, along with parts where the sand is smooth and spread out in a plume, as if it were abruptly thrown out.
Like there would be if someone were giving chase to the Helioptile you ran into.
“Huh? Gilbert? What are you-?”
All of a sudden the sand below your feet erupts. You and your trainer yelp, and as you tumble down the dune, you throw out your frill and cast sparks all about you. They do nothing other than to draw a mocking hiss about how your kind evidently doesn’t learn after evolving. You freeze and turn, where there you see a Sandaconda approaching with fangs bared.
Your body tenses up and your mouth drops open with fright. You’ve never met a Sandaconda that wasn’t trained, but you know enough about them that in nature, they hunt for prey. Your mind turns back to the Helioptile tracks and see the way she eyes you with a piercing stare as you realize she’s changed her target to you.
You throw your frill out to make yourself larger and try to muster the largest-sounding voice back, which despite your best efforts still comes out with a stammer. You insist that you are companions with a human and you are not hers to take. That it is by divine providence that you and her leave each other’s lives be.
She snorts up a small amount of sand and gives a mocking sneer in reply as her words come out dripping with venomous threat: that you’ve already forfeited your protections, since you and your human should’ve considered that before cheated her out of her prey.
Whatever thoughts of trying to plead your case, they are cut off by her rearing up and throwing her body down to stomp the ground and throw you off your feet. You fall onto your side and hear your trainer’s voice, trying to get up with legs that now feel stiff and uneasy. You feel scales against yours, and in a panic, you throw sparks once more. It does nothing and in a flash, the Sandaconda’s body wraps around yours and starts to tighten as you thrash and frantically try to pull yourself free.
“G-Gilbert! Use Dragon Pulse!”
You hear your trainer’s cry, and without thinking build up dragonfire in your mouth, spewing it at the Sandaconda’s back near yours. She shrieks in pain and loses her grip as you dart off, scrabbling on all fours as you fight to keep balance. You briefly see her slither off hastily, her own movements frantic and unfocused as you see your trainer’s legs. He raises his Pokéball and shakily taps the center, as in a flash of light the desert outside melts away.
About an hour later, you’re back in the tent where the disc reader was, still shivering from your encounter as your trainer applies a Potion to damaged scales along your legs.
“I’m sorry, Gilbert. I should’ve known it was a bad idea to go this far off the beaten path on our own.”
The entire time, his expression is downcast, and every time your eyes meet, you can see a pang of guilt in his, as all thoughts about his treasure have faded away in the shock of your close call. It’s moments like these that you wish he could understand you better. You try to insist to him that it wasn’t his fault and that it was thanks to his direction that you were able to escape.
… You just wish that you had a way to repay the favor.
“Helio!”
You notice your trainer turn and freeze and look over to follow his gaze. There at the front of the tent are a quartet of Helioptile, tense and poised for battle. Their leader’s side frills are flared and he levels a claw and cries out to you:
To give him back his treasure. That he did not brave a predator’s territory to retrieve it only for it to get stolen by you.
“... Gilbert? Do you know what’s going on here? Why’s that one pointing at you like that?”
The leader Helioptile’s voice comes out shaky, and a closer examination reveals him to be trembling, with his companions similarly nervous. Much like when you when you faced the Sandaconda, they seem nervous about their odds of pulling through.
Fortunately for you and them, you’re sure that you can resolve things on a more peaceful note. You and reach a hand into your trainer’s pocket, before pulling out the yellow-and-black stone from earlier.
“Lisk?”
You take it and show it, which the Helioptile confirms is indeed his. You apologize for the earlier incident and are about to stoop down to return it, when you realize there’s something that you should ask first.
“He… lio?”
You ask from where the Helioptile found the stone, to which he and his companions reply that it came from the “Heliolisk of the Stone Wall”. You notice your trainer casting a befuddled look between you and the wild Pokémon when one of the Helioptile tilts his head and asks how you as a Heliolisk don’t know this yourself.
That one is easy to explain: you’re not from around here.
You hand the stone off and there’s a moment of hesitance among the Helioptile before their leader turns and motions for you to follow with his head.
“Tile! Tile!”
Those “Heliolisk of the Stone Wall” happen to be nearby here, he insists. And if you wish to have a treasure of your own, perhaps there’d be another one there… even if it might require a bit of digging since it periodically gets buried by the desert sand.
… You’re not sure how your trainer will take this, since blindly trusting the word of Pokémon you’ve just met is quite the leap of faith. But nevertheless, you tug at your trainer’s arm and motion off after the Helioptile yourself. It takes him a little, but it dawns on him as to what your request is.
“Huh? You want me to follow along? What’s going on, Gilbert?”
Roughly ten minutes later, you’re entering a set of ruined walls, half-buried in the sand, with an entrance through a ruined doorway with a clearance so low that your human has to stoop to enter. He makes it through and after the Helioptile point off at a sand-covered wall, your trainer follows along when he catches a glimpse of a corner.
It is then that his eyes light up in excitement.
“Ah! Gilbert! This is it! This is one of those murals we were looking for!”
You turn and follow his eyes as he comes across flecks of paint in a half-buried chunk of wall. He calls you over and begins to brush away the sand, as you two remove it, you begin to see worn depictions of squarish human structures and humans in strange garb. You breathe out a sigh of relief, happy that all your efforts over the past few days alongside your trainer haven’t gone in vain when your claws brush away some more sand, and underneath you come across a glimpse of black and yellow.
“H-Helio?!”
You cry out in surprise as you come across a Heliolisk alongside the human, with a missing chip along its neck. The Helioptile come over, saying that there’s more of them below the sand and offer to help you see more of the rest.
You accept, and as the sand gets pulled away more and more, you find yourself gaping in disbelief as you come across more and more paintings that resemble you on the wall. Paintings of Heliolisk and humans intermingled with one another. Others with Heliolisk marching alongside humans with shields and spears. One with Heliolisk standing guard over treasure as humans heap them up for counting.
There is one in particular that catches your eye: of a Heliolisk at a human warrior’s side alongside a Duraludon, spewing a ray of what looks like blue fire at a Garchomp, turned away and fleeing.
Is… Is that the same power that you learned today? Does it really have the strength when mastered to turn back such strong foes?
“Ah, this is exactly what I was looking for, Gilbert!”
You look up at your trainer confusedly as he comes over and stoops, patting your head.
“I had a feeling you’d like the murals we came across. The desert civilization that used to be out here is said to have introduced Heliolisk like you to Galar, and they were particularly valued by them.”
These people… brought your kind here? You find it a bit hard to believe, but the murals are clear. They cherished your kind enough to immortalize them in their history, and some way, somehow, gave the ones that dwelled with them the strength to fight and stand among the ranks of dragons.
You can’t help but feel a glimmer of pride and wag your tail and raise your head tall. There’s a moment’s pause, when you see your trainer look away briefly, and kick uneasily at the sand.
“I… just hope that this makes up for everything. Even before what happened today, you haven’t really seemed happy with me lately.”
So your trainer noticed all this time? If only he could’ve understood your words. Perhaps this all could’ve been cleared up on the first day.
It’s then that your eyes fall on the daylight coming down in the center of the ruins, through the gaping hole where the now-nonexistent roof is where the Helioptile are resting under its warmth. You make your way over, and settle in, frill flared out as you face towards the sun and turn back speaking up in your tongue with a quiet chuckle.
That you’ll call things even. As long as you get to properly soak in the sun for once today.
I really liked the story. I felt like it isn't using the theme of dragons as strongly as the other stories but it doesn't need to. It encapsulates that parental anxiety well, that big unknown. I thought it was kind of cute they thought about dragon ancestry, although I didn't quite believe Ekans biting their parent made them like a dragon - that came off as Ekans just doing a regular snake thing.
Sorry my review is laconic! I finding it hard to come up with many things to say but honestly but I figured making this review longer wouldn't actually be me saying much more. I hope this review helped though!
I really liked the story. I felt like it isn't using the theme of dragons as strongly as the other stories but it doesn't need to. It encapsulates that parental anxiety well, that big unknown. I thought it was kind of cute they thought about dragon ancestry, although I didn't quite believe Ekans biting their parent made them like a dragon - that came off as Ekans just doing a regular snake thing.
Sorry my review is laconic! I finding it hard to come up with many things to say but honestly but I figured making this review longer wouldn't actually be me saying much more. I hope this review helped though!
Nah, it's fine. A lot of these one-shots are definitely on the simpler and shorter side, so sometimes there's only so much to say. As for the "dragon" theming, I'll admit that it's a bit "eye of the beholder" for how much the stories make the most of it, but I'm glad to hear that on balance you still had fun with this one.
Hope you'll have fun with the others down the pipe, since your reviews have been a real treat to read. ^^
And as you all likely gathered from my posting patterns, but I'm back with some fresh content today. Today's one-shot is markedly darker in tone than the ones that have been published as part of this anthology thus far, and deals with themes relating to death. In terms of actual content that goes down, the nitty-gritty is still in the bounds of what I'd consider a more aggressive K+ rating, but if that vibe isn't your sort of jam, be mindful of that before diving in and reading.
Alright, with that out of the way, let's jump right into the next story, this time set in a dragon's distant past...
You rouse from your bed of dried vegetation and onto your feet, shaking the morning dew off from your scales and plumes. It’s still early enough that it's still morning twilight, but it’s still light enough from the sun nearing the horizon for you to make out the jungle around you. You trudge forward, towards a bluff not far from your resting place, one that you chose for the commanding view it gives over your realm. You can already start to make out its contours in the dim light: of thick, jungled lowlands which run alongside the sea to the west. The territory that you reign over as king and take from as you please.
It is a place with large ferns and vines that grow amongst tall trees, flecked with clearings where larger prey sometimes gathers. You cannot see them past the canopy of treetops from your vantage point, but you know full well they are waiting for you to take. The thick undergrowth that bogs down many others that live in your territory is but a minor nuisance for your bulk and height to crash through, and their density provides cover for even a hunter of your size to sneak up on your quarry.
While you are still quite young as a king, this territory did not come easily after you struck out to make a claim for yourself. With tooth and claw, you fought for this forest to reign over, vanquishing all rivals that dared to stand in your way.
The only source of discontent that you have is that you have yet to find a mate, but it’s spring and the next mating season is just around the corner. Your territory is one where food is bountiful and the weather is never bitter in cold, with your den sitting in an easily defensible place. You doubt you will be kept waiting for long to find a mate who will accept your advances, and soon enough you will have heirs for your realm.
But those are considerations for another day. Now, you have more immediate matters to tend to. The best time to go hunting for prey is while they’re still unalert and can be taken unawares. Why, your own mother spoke of proverbs about how fortune favored Tyrantrum who were early to rise. It’s wisdom that has served you well, and today will be no exception. As such, you turn inland towards the east to gauge the light coming over the horizon.
From how bright it looks, it is still about half an hour until the sun properly rise. As long as you keep a brisk pace, you should be able to find prey from your realm to take well before they shake off their morning drowsiness.
You begin to head off for a rocky path down to the coastal lowlands and turn west, when you notice a bright star in the sky. It’s one that has appeared only recently, which you first noticed about three days ago while looking towards the northeast. Every night since the one when you first noticed it, it has moved a little further towards the southwest and grown a little brighter.
But this is the first time you can recall seeing it so close to sunrise, let alone visibly moving with your own eyes.
The star inches along for the southwest slowly, when all of a sudden, it picks up speed and zips over the horizon, much like how an Archeops might dive out of a tree while on the hunt. Maybe your eyes are playing tricks on you, but you could’ve sworn the star grew visibly brighter for a brief moment before it vanished.
Perhaps it is one of the moving stars that can sometimes be in the sky when it’s less bright. But if it is such a star, it’s certainly a most peculiar one. Those stars, whether coming and going in the twinkling of an eye, or drifting in the sky for many nights, have tails that follow them in their wake. By contrast, the one you just saw was barely a dot.
Your mind turns back to myths that your mother told you, about how some those stars in the sky are themselves Pokémon. Ones that have great power and unknowable ways. Could that have falling star have been one of their younglings? It’s a most unimpressive one if so from its lack of a tail. A runt among stars, you muse to yourself.
Your stomach growls, which prompts you to turn your gaze from the path of the star-runt and back to the tail going down into the lowlands. You are reminded that time is burning if you wish to hunt while still having the element of surprise.
You raise your snout to sniff the air and feel the wind blow against it and your feathers. You pick up the smells of your realm in spring, and note that the wind is coming in from the north—headed inland from the sea.
Good. Now you know what direction to approach from to best cover your scent as you go off on your hunt.
Half an hour later, the sun is now starting to poke over the horizon and you have found your target: a Bastiodon herd that settled to rest the night in a jungle clearing. You can only remain so quiet with your size, but the first of their numbers have just barely roused and your distance helps make up for it.
You creep forward closer and closer to the treeline, trying to size up the members of their herd. One of the Shieldon would be easy to dispatch, but a poor reward for your efforts. A Bastiodon would keep you filled for multiple meals, but it will require you to fell one before their comrades can close rank. Either way, your hunt will have the best odds of success if your prey fall into confusion or panic…
…and you have just the means to make them do so in the early morning light.
You crouch and let out a bellowing roar, the racket startling the herd awake as you lunge in with fangs bared into the middle of the clearing. All about you, the Bastiodon and their young scatter with cries of panic, your eyes falling on a Bastiodon stumbling onto his feet who freezes up after seeing you.
The Bastiodon’s mouth flops open in shock as he flinches and pulls his tail in towards his legs. You gather that his innards have sickened in fright, but you’re not one to snub easy prey. You charge the stunned creature with your jaws open wide, aiming to slip past his armored head, when you hear a bellowing cry. A crushing blow rams you from the side and knocks you off your feet. You scrabble up with a wheeze and briefly see the fear-sick Bastiodon turn and flee, when you spot the culprit just as you get up: another Bastiodon holding her head down to block your way. She shakes it to mime a charge, just as a pair of her comrades hurriedly lumber to her side.
She is attempting to rally their numbers, to band them together into a living wall of armored, shield-like heads that will punish any attempt to take prey from those that hide among them with powerful blows. Allowing too many challenges of the sort to stand unanswered as king risks inviting rivals from afar; as such, you must see to it that her attempt to stand her ground is shown to her fellows to be a mortal mistake.
You stomp the ground and make it tremble. Small cracks sprout in the dirt and make the three Bastiodon lose their footing. You charge forward as the lead Bastiodon stumbles up and attempts to charge you as you near. You jump ahead out of the way as she blows past you, and your tail comes alive with flecks of blue, fiery light that dances about it.
You swing it around and into the charging Bastiodon with a crushing blow, knocking her off her feet and sending her flopping stunned onto her side. You carry on briefly and run at the other two Bastiodon. They lose their nerve and frantically stumble back from you in a hasty attempt to retreat.
All as you had planned.
You wheel about mid-stride and lunge at the Bastiodon who is still recovering from your Dragon Tail, knocking her down and sinking your fangs into the side of her neck. She shrieks in pain as your bite breaks hide, and she thrashes as your strong jaws hold her in their grip. Before long, her strength gives out in your grasp and you let go, leaving her lying there dazed with blood trickling out, just faintly clinging to life.
You turn and spit up scales onto the ground, looking at your quarry’s allies behind you. Their will to fight is gone, and they both panic and flee, the clearing filling with frantic cries that fade as the rest of their herd abandons their fallen comrade and you are left to pant and catch your breath.
You take a moment to size over your prey. It was a hunt harder-fought than most others in your past, and had you not taken swift action, the Bastiodon herd could’ve very well forced you to limp away empty-jawed. But nevertheless, you have emerged victorious. And before you dispatch your prey, as the king of your realm, it is only proper that you ensure that all those who dwell in it know their place.
You place a foot onto the Bastiodon’s body and throw your head back, bellowing out your triumph. A cry that would chill the blood of even the tallest Aurorus. One that tells of how you are king of this forest and your might has brought you victory once again. A claim of rightful reign over this place, and a call for any who hear it to come and challenge you if they dare.
That would normally be the end of things and you’d move on to finishing off your prey, but today, your roar trails off in your throat as you see a fiery light shoot across the sky. It streaks in from the still-dim southwestern corner of the horizon, and it trails smoke in its wake. Another light appears, and then a third, a fourth, as the sky grows thicker and thicker with those strange fires from above.
One of them trails down towards the ground a little ways off towards the north. It lands with a dull thump in the distance and distant figures take to the air. It is then that you see a plume of smoke starting to curl up above the treetops from its direction.
Before you can wonder to yourself what the fire from the sky was, the ground abruptly shakes and lurches under your feet much like it did with your Earthquake, except this time, it’s far stronger. It knocks you off of the felled Bastiodon and you fall onto your side. You cry out briefly and fight against harsh tremors to get back onto your feet as the shaking continues and nearby trees start toppling to the ground. Frightened shrieks ring out from the forest in all directions, and the ground near your feet starts to visibly crack.
… Is this the doing of another Tyrantrum? You can’t explain the sky-fire, but this tremor is much like the ones you wield while hunting. You struggle to keep your balance against the shaking and look around, snarling and loudly demanding the culprit to show himself. This is your forest and you are its king, you are confident in your own might and don’t fear any challenger.
Your demands are answered by a flash of heat and a loud thud that makes you stumble to the ground from a concussive wave and blast of dislodged dirt. You look off towards the opposite end of the clearing and see that the trees which were once there are now tangled splinters, with them and their nearby ones still standing now awash in a curtain of flame.
You don’t know if this is the work of a challenger, but you’ve seen enough to know that whoever wields this sky-fire has strength far beyond your own. A flash of panic comes over you, and you turn and bolt from the clearing as fast as your legs and the churning earth underneath will let you.
The trees shake all about you and you hear others crash to earth unseen. A brief glance upwards reveals a flock of Archeops hurriedly taking flight, while cries and screams ring out from closer to the ground. Ones which come from Pokémon that you count as prey and rival alike.
You come to a smaller gap in the jungle, cast a glimpse off towards your den where you hope to find shelter, only to freeze at what you see: there is smoke curling up from its direction. Part of the bluff around where your den is then collapses from the quake in a cloud of dust, right as another ball of sky-fire zooms past it.
Something is very wrong right now, and you’re not sure if any Pokémon would be capable of doing all this. You briefly recount legends you’ve heard of where the earth would wake up and spew fire and ash out in all directions from openings in the ground. The sky-fire reminds you of that, except they’re coming from somewhere beyond the sea, from well beyond the horizon.
That’s when it occurs to you that the sky-fire all seems to be coming from the southwest.
From the very same direction that the star-runt fell past the horizon half an hour ago.
You snap to attention as a tree falls and grazes your shoulder, and you bellow out in pain. You wrack your mind for any possible shelter that you can turn to, when you remember that there is a river nearby. It’s shallow enough for you to ford by walking, while broad enough that it should be an effective shelter from fire or crumbling earth.
It’s the only hope that you have right now.
You take off running back through the forest, stumbling ahead and glancing off from trunk to trunk from the tremors. Against your kingly nature, you let out a startled yelp as a smaller ball of sky-fire slices through the canopy right in front of you and sets the branches in its wake ablaze.
You screw your eyes shut and force yourself forward as embers fall against your hide, opening them again and looking skywards once you feel the heat and smoke pass. What you find makes them shrink in alarm. All across the sky above you, little beads of sky-fire now fall to the ground like hail, striking leaves overhead as others burn through and fall to the ground in a molten rain.
Perhaps you’re being superstitious or jumping to conclusions, but in your gut, something tells you that this is because of the star-runt. Did it do this to your forest? Did it somehow know about the way you slighted it?
Something digs into your flank and burning pain follows. You scream in agony and bolt ahead as the smell of something burning lingers with you. You don’t know what sort of territory you will rule as king after all of this, but at this point, you’re more concerned with merely keeping your head on your shoulders.
You hear running water, and much to your relief, you see the river up ahead. With every ounce of your remaining strength, you fight against the pain in your flank and run ahead for the water’s safety. You burst from the cover of the treeline and feel the riverbank’s silt under your toes.
Then there’s a flash of heat from beside you and a deafening blast. A crushing wave in the air and searing heat along your side comes afterwards, when you pitch forward into the river before everything goes black.
As you come to, the first thing you feel is the river’s water all around your body along with silt intermixed with glassy beads. Then you cough and water comes up from your lungs. Your vision is muddy at first and your breathing is shaky as aches and pains rack just about every part of your body you can think of.
The ground is still shaking now, just as strong as you remembered it when you blacked out. You smell smoke and as your vision clears up, you see that you are lying in a shallower part of the river. As you weakly turn your head, you see that both of the river’s banks are aflame as far as your eyes can see. Embers swirl up into the air from them, while the sky-fire continues coming down from beyond a smoky curtain, one too thick to make out what time of day it is.
You try to move your right leg and grimace after feeling a flash of pain shoot through it. Your breaths come haggard and hoarse, and you weakly turn your head back towards your flank. All up and down it, your hide is blackened with ugly burns and much of your plumage is charred down to its quills.
You feel a whimper build in your throat but fight it back. You are the king of this forest. Even while fleeing, even while wounded, kings still have a level of dignity to maintain and do not whimper.
You try to stand up, but the pain in your right leg won’t let you. You hear sizzling and see that the smaller beads of sky-fire are still falling, with some hitting places in the river nearby and hissing as they are extinguished. You look past and see various shapes slumped over in and around the water. The one nearest to you is an Aerodactyl, lying partly crumpled in the water with their wings splayed out and their head resting just above the surface. There are burnt holes in their wings’ membranes and their eyes are closed. You can’t tell whether or not they’re still breathing from your distance.
It then occurs to you that you don’t hear screams anymore. Just the sound of burning fire, faint thuds in the distance, and a dull roar that lingers in the background.
You turn your head towards the dull roar as you realize that it’s coming from the direction of the sea. There, from the light of the fire, you can make out a black-colored wall approaching, taller than the burning trees around you.
You see a trunk get caught up in it, roll, and suddenly go dark. It then occurs to you that what the black wall is:
It’s the sea. Coming straight towards you and sweeping away everything in its path.
This time, you don’t hold back the whimper in your throat, and lower your head to brace for the end. There is nothing more you can do now. If this destruction is indeed the star-runt’s doing, it has felled you and all your realm.
And like a victorious king, it has every right to claim it all.
The next thing you know, water surges over your body and sweeps you up. You tumble about in it as your nostrils go under the surface and feel hard objects strike your body from all directions.
One of them hits your head, and everything goes black a second time.
You’re waking up again. There’s liquid all around your body and as you crack your eyes open, you see hazy and indistinct shapes and lights above and below you through some sort of fluid that has an orangish tint. You stir in a panic to try and get air, when it occurs to you that you’re somehow still breathing and that something is clamped tightly over your snout. You can’t clearly make out your body or its injuries right now aside from hazy glimpses of dark-colored limbs and a tail.
The shapes in the fluid move around as two tall ones that dwarf you come to the front and stop. They shift about slightly, and there’s gurgling noises from below. The fluid drains and you drift down with it, until you feel cold metal brush against your hide. You lay there, breathing in and out as you blink the liquid out of your eyes and the world around you starts to become clearer in your vision.
You’re lying in a chamber of some sort: metal on the bottom, a metal ceiling on top, with some sort of clear substance between them that makes it look almost like you’re in the hollow of some sort of strange shell or log. You feel lingering beads of fluid drip down your scales and look down and see they are brown. Your memory is hazy, but you vaguely remembered that they were a very different color than this before you woke up, even if their current state feels distantly familiar to you.
“The revival process is complete. It should be fine to disconnect him now.”
There are voices you can’t understand coming from outside the tube when a woosh rings out and it retracts. You see lights from above and reflexively whimper. Even in this strange place, the sky-fire is still here to torment you and finish you off. You cringe and curl up, bracing for the end.
“Easy, easy. You’re alright.”
You yelp as you feel tugs on your snout and keep your eyes screwed shut as something lifts your body up. There’s warmth from above but it’s not scorching. You blink and crack your eyes open, and as you look down, you see some strange, soft white covering swaddling you. Along with a pair of limbs that are giant relative to your body which hold you up from below.
Your breaths grow shallow in a panic. You’re being carried off by a predator, a fear you haven’t had to worry about since you were very young. You struggle against the object muzzling your snout and flail your limbs and squirm as the strange limbs fight to hold you still. You try to break free when suddenly something moves against your back and strokes slowly. Your breathing calms, and you move your head to peek past the white covering.
There’s some sort of strange, gangly creature with a loose, white pelt and a fur-tuft looking down at you. One that comes down to the sides of a strange head without visible scales, or feathers, or even additional fur aside from a couple patches over the creature’s brows. The creature’s mouth curls up at its ends, and it speaks in a soft and cooing tone.
“There, there. You’re okay now. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
You don’t know what it is telling you, but something about its voice feels strangely reassuring. Your legs touch a surface that flexes under your weight, and much to your surprise, your right leg doesn’t hurt anymore. The white covering holds you in place and suddenly it moves all up and down your scales. You fidget and try to call out in protest as it occurs to you that it’s wiping away the fluid. It lets go, as another creature in a white pelt comes forward, reared up to a height that looks positively gigantic. Its head-fur looks shorter, and it has fur along the bottom of its mouth that reminds you of the beard of feathers under your jaw you vaguely remembered having before you woke up again. There’s a set of strange rings about its eyes that rest on long stalks coming from what you presume to be a pair of horns on the side of its head.
It glances you over briefly, before it turns to the other and pushes the strange covering up and down your scales. It chuckles, and speaks up with strange, dissonant vocalizations you can’t make heads or tails of.
“Sure looks different from that Jaw Fossil we found him as. Not bad for a Pokémon that spent millions of years stuck in sediment that used to be at the bottom of a sea, if you ask me.”
Its hands go for your muzzle and you feel the pressure on your snout slacken, as it pulls the white covering away from your eyes. With your jaws now freed, you lunge and clamp down on the covering that keeps poking and prodding at your body, and vigorously shake it as you attempt to prove to it that you are a king and will not tolerate it toying with you as it pleases.
It’s warm and chewy, but gives no shrieks of pain or reply to your growls. So it’s not alive, perhaps it's a hide of some sort? You pause and look about your surroundings and see you’re in some sort of strange cave. The surface that gives way underfoot when you step on it is green and feels soft but firm to the touch. To the sides are peculiar cave walls which look unnaturally straight, and the cave floor does as well with strange hatch-like patterns in its rock. Even the ceiling is weirdly straight, with strange lights embedded in them that lack the normal warmth of sunlight.
You stare around bewildered, when the long-tuft cups its fingers under your chin and strokes you.
“Welcome to our world, little guy. It’s not quite being king of the jungle, but we’re glad you’re here in it.”
You blink and settle in on the counter as the white-pelted creatures drift off, casting glances at you as they talk from further off in the room. You’re not sure what on earth just happened, or if those things you thought were memories of that forest you ruled burning and being overtaken by the black waves were a nightmare of some sort. You also don’t know whether you are even safe right now. After all, the white-pelts are much larger than you, and took you from the strange tube to your present ledge as they pleased.
… You decide to test the order of this strange new world you’ve woken in. To determine who is its rightful ruler. And as such, you stand up, throwing your head back with a mighty roar.
… It’s smaller and less impressive than you remembered it being, but it makes both the white pelts on their two legs stiffen up and instantly turn to look at you. The one with the long tuft hurries over and places a blue berry in front of you. It pats you again, though this time its motions are more guarded and careful. As if it were chastened and put into place.
The white pelt drifts off again as you lower your jaws and tear into the berry, chewing over its flesh as a satisfied grin creeps over your mouth.
Even in this body that isn’t as fearsome as the one you remembered, even in this strange place among strange creatures larger than you that you know nothing about, you recognize as clear as day from the way they reacted as to who its rightful ruler is.
You are. They yielded to you, and they know that you are their king.
Original Drabble:
Firebreathers
Heliolisk
Serpentine
Scale and Fang
Gyarados
Outrage
Dragon's Den
Proud Lineage
Scraggy
You rouse from your bed of dried vegetation among stony ground and onto your feet and shake off the morning dew from your scales and plumes. It’s still early enough that it's twilight and the sun hasn’t come over the horizon yet, but it’s still light enough for you to make out the jungle around you. You trudge forward, towards the bluff not far from your resting place, which you chose for the commanding view it gives over your realm, whose contours you can already make begin to make out in the dim light. Of thick, jungled lowlands running alongside the sea to the west. The territory over which you reign as its king.
It is a place with large ferns and vines amongst tall trees, flecked with clearings where larger prey sometimes gather. The thick undergrowth that bogs down many others that live in your territory is but a minor nuisance for your bulk and height to crash through, and their density provides cover for even a creature your size to sneak up on your prey.
While you are still quite young as king, this territory did not come easily after you struck out to make a claim for yourself. With tooth and claw, you fought for this forest to reign over, besting all rivals that dared to stand in your way.
Your one source of discontent is that you have yet to find a mate, but it’s spring and mating season is just around the corner. Your territory is one where food is bountiful and the weather never bitter in cold, with your den in a defensible place. You doubt you will be kept waiting for long to find a mate who will accept your advances, and soon enough you will have heirs for your realm.
The best time to go hunting for prey is when they’re not alert and can be taken unawares. Why your own mother even spoke of proverbs of how fortune favored Tyrantrum who were early to rise. To that end, you turn inland for the east to gauge the light coming over the horizon.
From appearances, it’s about half an hour out still. So long as you keep a brisk pace, you should be able to find prey to hunt well before they shake off their morning drowsiness.
You turn to set off, turning for the west when as you do, you notice a bright star in the sky. It’s the one you first noticed about three days ago that appeared in the northeast. Every night since the one you noticed it, it has moved a little further towards the southwest and grown a bit brighter.
But this is the first time you can recall seeing it at this hour with your own eyes, let alone see it visibly moving.
The star inches along for the southwest slowly, when all of a sudden, it picks up speed and zips over the horizon, much like an Archeops might drop out of a tree while on the hunt. It might have been your eyes playing tricks on you, but you could’ve sworn it grew visibly brighter for a moment before it vanished.
Perhaps it is one of the moving stars that sometimes appear in the sky, especially at night. But if it is one, it’s certainly a most peculiar specimen. Those stars, whether coming and going in the twinkling of an eye, or drifting in the sky for many nights, have majestic tails that follow them in their wake. The one you saw by contrast was barely a dot.
There were myths your mother told you about how some say those stars in the sky are themselves Pokémon. Ones with great power and unknowable ways. Perhaps that was one of their younglings? A most unimpressive one from its lack of a tail if so, a runt among stars, you muse.
You hear your stomach growl and turn away from the path of the star-runt as your mind returns to thoughts of your impending hunt. You raise your snout to sniff the air and feel the wind blow against it and your feathers.
It’s coming in from the north running inland from the sea. Good. Now you know what direction will best cover your scent as you go on your hunt.
Half an hour later, the sun is now starting to poke over the horizon and you have found your prey: a Bastiodon herd. You can only remain so quiet with your size, but the first of their numbers have just barely roused and are still drowsy and your distance helps make up for it.
You creep forward closer and closer to the treeline, trying to size up the members of their herd. Your hunt will go easiest if they break in confusion or panic, and you have just the means to do so in the early morning light.
You crouch and let out a bellowing roar, the racket startling the herd awake as you lunge in with fangs bared. All about you, the Bastiodon and their young scatter with cries of panic, your eyes falling on a Bastiodon before you who gets up and freezes after seeing you.
The Bastiodon pulls his tail in towards his legs and flinches as his innards sicken in fright. You charge the stunned creature with your jaws open wide when you are rammed from the side with a bellowing cry. You briefly see the fear-sick Bastiodon turn and flee, and get up to see another Bastiodon holding her head down to block your way and shakes it to mime a charge, with a pair hurriedly lumbering to her side.
She is attempting to rally their numbers, to band together into a living wall of armored heads and make it unsafe to attempt to take prey from among them. Such challenge to you as king cannot be tolerated, you must see to it that her fellows see that it is a mortal mistake.
You stomp the ground and make it tremble. Small cracks sprout in the dirt as the three Bastiodon lose their footing. You charge forward as the lead rallier stumbles up and attempts to charge you as you near, as you sidestep and your tail comes alive with flecks of blue fire that dance about it.
You swing it around with a crushing blow, knocking the lead Bastiodon off her feet and sending her flopping onto her side stunned. You carry on briefly towards the other two Bastiodon. They frantically stumble back from you in an attempt to fall back.
All as you had planned.
You wheel about and lunge at the Bastiodon still getting up from your Dragon Tail, knocking her down and sinking your fangs into the side of her neck. She shrieks in pain as your bite breaks hide and thrashes as your strong jaws hold their grip. Her strength gives out in your jaws and you let go, as she lies there dazed with blood trickling out, just faintly clinging to life.
You turn and spit up scales onto the ground, looking at the Bastiodon’s allies behind you. Their will to fight is gone, and they both lose their nerve and flee, the clearing filling with frantic cries that fade as the rest of the herd leaves their fallen comrade behind and you pant and size over your quarry.
It was a hunt harder-fought than most in your past, and had you not taken swift action, you could very well have been forced to limp away empty-jawed. But still, you are king and you are victorious, and before you dispatch your prey, it is only proper that all those who dwell in your territories know it.
You place a foot onto your prey and turn your head up, bellowing out your triumph. It tells of how you are king of this forest and your might has brought you victory once again. A claim of rightful reign over this place, and call for any who listen to challenge you if they dare.
That would normally be the end of things and you’d move on to dispatching your prey, but today, your roar trails off and your cry dies in your throat as you see a light shoot across the sky trailing smoke streaking from the still-dim southwestern portion of the horizon. Another appears, and then a third, a fourth, as the sky grow thicker and thicker with those strange lights from above.
One of them trails down towards the ground a little ways off towards the north. It lands with a dull thump, as smoke curls up from its direction above the treetops.
Before you can wonder to yourself what the fire from the sky is, the ground abruptly shakes much like it did with Earthquake, except far stronger. It knocks you off of the felled Bastiodon and you fall onto your side, righting yourself as you see trees topple to earth. Frightened shrieks ring out from the forest in all directions, and the ground near your feet visibly cracks from the tremors.
… Is this the doing of another Tyrantrum? You can’t explain the sky-fire but this tremor is much like the one you wield like hunting. You fight against the tremors and look around, snarling and loudly demanding the culprit to show themself. This is your forest and you are its king, you are confident in your might and fear not any challenger.
You are answered by a flash of heat and a loud thud, stumbling to the ground from a concussive wave and blast of dislodged dirt. You look off to the opposite end of the clearing and see the trees that were once there are now tangled splinters, with them and the surrounding survivors set awash in a curtain of flame.
You don’t know if this is the work of a challenger, but you know that whoever wields the sky-fire has strength far beyond your own. A flash of panic takes over you, and you turn and run from the clearing as fast as your legs and the churning earth underneath will allow.
The trees shake all about you and you hear others crash to earth unseen. A brief glance up reveals a flock of Archeops hurriedly taking flight, while below cries and screams ring out from closer to the ground. Coming from both Pokémon you count as prey and rivals alike.
You come to a smaller gap in the jungle, cast a glimpse off for the direction of your den and freeze. There is smoke curling up from its direction. Part of the bluff along the coast then collapses from the quake in a cloud of dust, right as another ball of sky-fire zooms past it.
Something is very wrong right now, and you’re not sure if any Pokémon would be capable of doing this. You briefly recount stories you’ve heard about legends where the earth would wake up and spew fire out in all directions from openings in the ground. This reminds you of that, except this fire comes from somewhere beyond the sea, from well beyond the horizon.
It is then that it occurs to you that the sky-fire seems to all be coming from the direction of the southwest.
From the direction that the star-runt fell over the horizon half an hour ago.
You are snapped to attention as a tree falls and glances against your shoulder and bellow in pain. You wrack your mind for any possible shelter you can turn to, when one comes to mind. There is a river nearby here. Shallow enough for you to ford, while broad enough to seek shelter from fire or crumbling earth.
It is the only hope you have right now.
You take off running back through the forest, stumbling ahead and glancing off trunk to trunk from the tremors. Against your kingly nature, you let out a yelp as a smaller ball of sky-fire slices through the canopy just in front of you and sets the branches in its wake ablaze. You screw your eyes shut and force yourself forward as embers fall on you, opening them again once you pass and turning them skywards.
What you see makes your eyes shrink, as above, little beads of sky-fire now fill the sky like hail, striking leaves overhead as others burn through and fall towards the ground like molten rain.
Perhaps it’s superstitious or jumping to conclusions, but in your gut, something tells you that this is because of the star-runt. Did it do this to your forest? Was it somehow knew about the way you slighted it?
Something pierces into your flank with burning pain and you scream in pain and bolt ahead as the smell of something burnt lingers with you. You don’t know what sort of territory you will rule as king after all of this, but at this point, you’re more concerned with merely keeping your head.
You hear running water, and much to your relief, you see the river up ahead. With every ounce of your strength, you fight the pain in your flank and run forward for the water’s safety. You burst from the cover of the treeline and feel the riverbank’s silt under your feet.
Then there’s a flash of heat from beside you and a deafening blast. You feel a crushing wave in the air and searing heat along your side and pitch forward into the river before everything goes black.
The next thing you remember is feeling the river all around your body and coughing up water from your lungs. Your vision is muddy at first and your breaths come shaky as aches and pains rack just about every part you can think of.
The ground is still shaking now, just as strong as you remembered when you blacked out. You smell smoke and as your vision, you see that you are lying in a shallower part of the river, and as you weakly turn your head, you see that both its banks are aflame as far as the eyes can see. Embers swirl up into the air from them, as the sky-fire continues coming down from beyond a smoky curtain, too thick to make out what time of day it is.
Grimace as your left leg hurts when you move it. You weakly turn your head to see and see that up and down your flank, your hide is blackened with ugly burns and that much of your plumage is charred down to the quills.
You feel a whimper in your throat but fight it back. You are the king of this forest. Even when fleeing, kings still have a level of dignity to maintain and do not whimper.
You try to stand up, but the pain in your left leg won’t let you. You hear sizzling and see that the smaller balls of sky-fire are still falling, as a few hit places in the river nearby you and hiss as they are extinguished. You look past and see various shapes slumped over in and around the water, the one nearest to you is an Aerodactyl, lying partly crumpled in the water with his wings splayed out and his head resting just above the surface, eyes closed. There are burnt holes in his wings’ membranes. You can’t tell whether or not he’s still breathing from your distance.
It then occurs to you that you don’t hear screams anymore. Just the sound of burning fire, distant thuds in the distance, and a dull roar that lingers in the background.
You turn your head towards the dull roar as you realize that it’s coming from the sea. There, from the light of the fire, you can make out a black-colored wall approaching, taller than the burning trees around you.
You see a trunk get caught on it, roll, and suddenly go dark. It then occurs to you that you know what the black wall is:
It’s the sea. Coming straight at you and sweeping away everything in its path.
This time, you don’t hold back the whimper in your throat, and lower your head and brace for the end. There is nothing more you can do now. If this is indeed the star-runt’s doing, it has felled you and all your realm.
And like a victorious king, it has every right to claim you.
The next thing you know, water comes over your body and sweeps you up. You tumble about in it and feel hard objects strike your body.
One of them hits your head, and everything goes black once again.
You’re waking up again. There’s fluid all around and as you crack your eyes open, see hazy and indistinct shapes through fluid with a greenish tint from above and below. You stir in a panic to try and get air, when it occurs to you that you’re still breathing and something is clamped tight over your snout. You can’t clearly make out your body right now other than hazy glimpses of dark-colored limbs and a tail.
You see indistinct shapes and lights through the fluid as two tall ones that dwarf you come to the front and stop. They move slightly, and there’s gurgling noises from below. The fluid drains and you drift down with it, until your feel cold metal brush against your hide. You lay there, breathing in and out as you blink away the liquid out of your eyes and the world starts to become clearer.
You’re lying on some sort of surface: metal on the bottom and you see metal on top, with some sort of clear substance all between them much as if it were the hollow of some sort of strange, hollow log. You feel fluid drip down your scales and look down and see they are brown. Your memory is hazy, but you remembered that they were a different color, even if this feels distantly familiar to you.
“The revival process is complete. It should be fine to disconnect him now.”
There are voices you can’t understand that come from outside the tube when a woosh rings out and it retracts. You see lights from above and reflexively whimper and cringe. Even in this strange place, the sky-fire is there, and you curl up and brace for the end.
“Easy, easy. You’re alright.”
You yelp as you feel tugs on your snout and keep your eyes screwed shut as something lifts your body up. There’s warmth from above but it’s not scorching, as you look own and see some strange, soft white covering swaddling you, a pair of limbs that are giant relative to your body holding you up from below.
It occurs to you that you’re being carried off by a predator, a fear you have not had since you were very young. You help against your muzzle and flail your limbs and squirm as the strange limbs fight to hold you still. You try to break free when suddenly something moves against your back and strokes slowly. Your breathing calms, as you crack your eyes back open.
You look past the white covering and see a strange, gangly creature in a sort of loose, white pelt with a fur-tuft looking down at you, which comes down to the sides of a strange head without visible scales, or feathers, or even fur beyond a couple patches over the creature’s brows. Its mouth curls up at its end, and it speaks in a soft and cooing voice.
“There, there. You’re okay, no. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Something about it feels strangely reassuring, when you feel your legs touch a surface that flexes under your weight when you’re held in place and suddenly the covering moves all up and down your scales. You squirm and try to call out in protest as it occurs to you that it’s wiping away the fluid. It lets go, as another creature in a white pelt comes forward, reared up to a height that looks positively gigantic. Its head-fur looks shorter, it has fur along the bottom of its mouth much like the beard of feathers you remembered you had before you woke up again, and a set of strange rings about its eyes that rest on long stalks coming from what you presume to be horns on the side of its head.
It glances you over briefly, before turning towards the other as it pushes the strange covering up and down your scales. It chuckles, as speaks up with strange, dissonant vocalizations you don’t understand.
“Sure looks different from that Jaw Fossil we found him as. Not bad for a Pokémon that spent millions of years stuck in sediment that was once at the bottom of a sea, if you ask me.”
Its hands go for your muzzle and you feel the pressure on it slacken, as it pulls it away from your eyes. With your jaws now freed, you lunge and clamp down on the white covering that keeps poking and prodding at your body, and vigorously shake it as you attempt to prove to it that you are a king and not its prey.
It’s warm and chewy, and gives no shrieks of pain or replies to your growls. It’s not alive, perhaps its a hide of some sort? You pause and look about your surroundings and see you’re in some sort of strange cave. The surface that gives way underfoot is green and feels soft but firm to the touch. To the sides are peculiar cave walls that look unnaturally straight, the cave floor does too with strange hatch-like patterns in the rock. As does the ceiling, with strange lights embedded in them that appear to lack the normal warmth of sunlight.
You look around bewildered, when long-tuft cups its fingers under your chin and strokes you.
“Welcome to our world, little guy. It’s not quite being king of the jungle, but we’re glad you’re here in it.”
You blink and settle in on the counter as the white-pelted creatures drift off, casting glances at you as they talk from further off in the room. You’re not sure what on earth happened, or if those things you thought were memories of the burning forest and being overtaken by the black waves were a nightmare of some sort. You also don’t know whether you are even safe right now. After all, the white-pelts are much larger than you, and took you from the strange tube to your present ledge as they pleased.
… You decide to test the order of this strange new world you’re in, and stand up, throwing your head back with a mighty roar.
… It’s smaller and less impressive than you remembered, but it makes both the white pelts on their two legs stiffen up and turn to see you. The one with the long tuft hurries over and places a blue berry in front of you. It pats you again, though this time its motions are more guarded and careful. As if chastened and put into place.
The white pelt drifts off again as you lower your jaws and tear into the berry, its flesh entering your mouth as you give a knowing grin.
Even in this diminished body, even in this strange place among strange creatures larger than you that you know naught about, you recognize clear as day the way they reacted.
They yielded to you, and they know that you are their king.
A Guarding Dragon
A Dragon's Ferocity
A Dragon's Lineage
A Dragon's Savior
A Dragon Someday
A Flightless Dragon
A Dragon’s Valor
A Dragon’s Folklore
A Treasured Dragon
A Kingly Dragon
A Dragon's Might
A Restless Dragon
A Mythical Dragon
