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Okay so it turns out I really love this fic and so I must therefore attempt to read the entire thing now that it's complete. For right now, have a review of the first four chapters.
I'm really, really enjoying this fic. Like omg why did I not pick this up sooner this is literally such a good story. It reminds me a lot of stories and cartoons I watched as a child. There's such a quiet, intimate warmth to this story. There's such beauty in the way you portray childhood and how the joys and trials of it play out when Pokémon are thrown in the mix. The narration for this story is so friendly, like a calm and caring father figure reading you a bedtime story. The worldbuilding is also absolutely wonderful, and the way things play into the themes of the Gen V games (things like Pokémon rights and the relationships between Trainer and Pokémon).
Glad to hear that it struck such a chord, since from the very beginning, Dragonspiral's Children has always been one part "this is my headcanon and how it works" and one part "character study of basic, average normies with an offbeat Pokémon". There's a bit of recursive influence from some of my later writing this time around, but hey, I do consider characterization to be one of my stronger suits as a writer, and it sounds like it's held up well even if this story is written from a framing that is a bit different from what I'm more normally known for.
Omg these are such great names to use. They're so ordinary(?), and this family seems like a very ordinary family, but their journey is extraordinary. It's like... it's extraordinary for us but ordinary for them.
Yeah, coming up with honest-to-goodness names for the characters for this rewrite was one of the things that took me a while to settle on. It might've been a bit hokey, but I figured that names that could literally be taken as placeholders lent themselves particularly well to "basic average nobodies" vibe-wise.
Yeah, that one's been around since the earliest version of this story. Like I've said in the past, I've always liked the characters in this story, even if the original framing almost a decade ago left a lot to be desired.
And I'll be looking forward to hearing your impressions... and giving you a bit more work as of today. :V
So as you might have gathered at the start of this post... yeah. I know that this story's supposed to be completed, but there was that Halloween One-Shot Contest from Bulbagarden Forums going on, and screw it, I wanted a reason to depict Chopper as a wizard lizard and it was a good enough excuse to write a holiday special / one-shot where I could do just that.
I attempted to write this extra to be enjoyable at any time while reading Dragonspiral's Children, though it is chronologically set between the Parts 4 and 5 of the main story and makes some according assumptions accordingly which may or may not minorly spoil a couple earlier parts of the story if you're jumping in blind.
Though hey, if you don't mind skipping ahead a bit, that's fine too, since this extra was written in mind to be self-contained, and there's literally no better time of the year than the day of posting to sink your teeth into it. I'd also like to take a moment to extend a special thanks to @Venia Silente for beta reading this extra and for providing feedback to help tighten up things into the update that you're seeing in front of you today.
And with that, Happy Halloween, everybody, and let's get right into that extra.
Hm? Asking for another story about that family that I knew from when I was younger tonight of all nights? I’ll admit, you caught me at a bit of an unexpected time, but I suppose I do have a few more about them I can tell.
You probably already remember them from prior stories, but if it slipped your mind, that family was the Doe family. A mother, a father, and three children who grew up in a tract home on the outskirts of Icirrus City. They lived alongside a number of Pokémon, but chief among them were the parents’ Mienshao and the Druddigon who I know my tales about them from.
As luck would have it, there’s a story about them from the fall just after the neighbor girl that used to live next door first moved in. One that happened on a night just like this one.
Now at the time, the elder Doe children were just entering the years where they would start to train Pokémon of their own. John had a Whirlipede at the time of my story, and Jane a Cubone and Deerling. The youngest, James, was on the verge of rounding out his first years under the care of his parents. He was not quite old enough to train his own Pokémon, but still old enough to be able to play and go around under the watchful eyes of the family’s Druddigon or Mienshao.
But that’s getting on a bit of a tangent. To understand the story, I suppose I ought to tell you about why that night in particular stood out from every other chilly autumn night.
Now to a Pokémon’s sensibilities, humans can be strange and mystifying creatures sometimes. Their dens usually aren’t fashioned with the rhythms of nature in mind, and they can be as finicky about the rain as a Darumaka or as unfazed by the snow as a Beartic depending upon the clothes they wear. As such, they’re creatures whose habits can seem stubborn and unyielding against what would be common sense to creatures like you and me. Especially since for some reason, they celebrate a good chunk of their festival days during cold seasons.
Some of their festivals make some sense. Times when humans will gather together with their family and companions to share meals or gifts. To bond together over a full belly and the warmth of a stoked hearth…
“Well? What do you think, James?”
And then there are those festivals that can seem downright silly at first, like the one they have towards the middle of autumn that they call ‘Halloween’. It’s a time when humans, especially young ones, like going about in silly costumes to play make-believe and go about gathering sweets from other human dens in the evening. ‘Trick or treating’ is what they call it, I think.
And being a youngster himself at the time, James was more than eager to get into the festive spirit too… with his parents’ help. They’d pieced together a strange outfit with a maroon trench coat, some strangely frilly clothes with a prominent belt over their waistline, and a black three-cornered hat with a skull and crossed bone design on it. Mr. and Mrs. Doe even dug out an old Chatot doll for the occasion and helped fashion a curved cardboard sword as part of the boy’s costume, as Mrs. Doe put on the finishing touches in the living room and let her son behold the final product.
“I like it!” James cheered. “Thanks, mom!”
The boy beamed back to his mother and gave a few playful swings of his toy sword. He went dressed up as a ‘pirate captain’ that evening. It’s a bit of a common costume for humans, especially for younger ones, which meant that there were bound to be others that found it a bit cliché.
“Well, I guess it beats you going out in that Hydreigon onesie for another year in a row. But I told you that you should’ve saved up if you wanted a good costume.”
Including his older brother, John. Now for whatever reason, humans have a tendency to don costumes of things they consider fearsome beings on Halloween. Even James’ costume had been made with similar considerations, since pirates were apparently fierce bandits among humans from bygone ages, and used to fill human that lived near the sea with dread… even if James’ looked a bit too cute and childish with that stuffed Chatot of his to really be frightening to most others.
And as youngsters themselves at the time, John and Jane also got swept up in Halloween and its make-believe, and they were both old enough to seek out costumes that would be a bit more intimidating… if by degrees. John that year had gotten a costume with a fancier black and white shirt and vest and black pants, which he paired with a black cowl with a blood-red underside. He had a set of fangs that he popped into his mouth that day, and a spot of fake blood that dabbled out of its corner.
“Oh, you’re one to talk, John,” Jane scoffed. “Three months’ worth of allowance and yard work and all you’ve got to show for it is a vampire costume?”
It’s supposed to be scarier than it sounds, even if ‘vampires’ in human stories sound suspiciously less frightening and more annoying like Zubat and other Pokémon of their ilk; if that’s true, one couldn’t fault Jane too much for not being impressed. She’d opted for a more lighthearted costume that year, dressed up as a Mienfoo. Unlike her brother’s store-bought costume, hers was fashioned from parts of an old hoodie and sweatpants, dyed appropriate colors with cloth ears and a tail sewn to it. Much of it had been made on her own along with her parents’ help, and honestly it was probably a bit more impressive than John’s.
Not that the elder boy would’ve been one to hear the argument. He rolled his eyes, briefly flashing his fake fangs as he pulled his cape over his shoulder with a sharp harrumph.
“Oi, I had to leave some money behind for my Pokémon too!” the elder boy huffed. “How else was I supposed to get a costume for him?”
Now, one of the things that others find strange whenever I tell this story is that the Pokémon that partner with humans also commonly take part of this dress-up on Halloween. That time, John’s Whirlipede rolled out for the occasion, with a set of black-and-green plates and a dab of red paint. He hailed Jane’s Cubone and Deerling who had already been waiting alongside her. The Ground-type dressed up with a black, pointed hat with a brim and frayed black cape and some reeds taped around the bottom of her club to make it look like a broom, while the Grass-type sported a paper crown with a dash of purple cloth draped around his shoulder. A Dusk Ball, alongside what humans call a ‘witch’ and a ‘prince’, who neared each other to have some fun pointing out how silly they all looked right then.
Though Jane had quite obviously already made up her mind over whose costumes she found more impressive as she glanced off at John’s Pokémon and rolled her eyes.
“Hrmph, doesn’t look like you got your money’s worth, John,” she remarked.
“Well I think my costume’s the best,” James piped up. “After all, mine’s the one that’s got a matching partner!”
“Shao?”
And in the Does’ house, it was also a tradition for the couple’s Mienshao to join their children for trick-or-treating—dressed up for the occasion himself. That year, his costume was a simpler one: a blue-and-white banded shirt, a red bandanna, and a clip-on earring made of gold-colored plastic that had been slipped over his right ear. The Fighting-type took his side beside the youngest Doe child with a bow in greeting as James cracked a grin and raised his mock sword with a triumphant pose.
“No treasure is safe from Captain James and his trusty First Mate Duke!”
Their roles arguably ought to have been reversed given that the Mienshao was a bit too big and strong to seriously be James’ underling, even if human stories have a strange fondness for such pairings, but the Fighting-type had no complaints about the role he was playing that night.
Mr. or Mrs. Doe would join in alongside him in their younger years, but they had since entrusted the Fighting-type with keeping watch over their children on Halloween. The elder children were getting old enough to be trusted with wandering off further from their nest without prying eyes constantly on them, and the Mienshao had proven to be a capable caretaker—both in and out of a costume.
Enough so that Mrs. Doe was ready to see them off… provided she got some reassurances from her children first.
“Have fun out there, you three,” Mrs. Doe said. “Though don’t go off getting into trouble, you hear?”
The Doe children cheerfully insisted that they wouldn’t, especially with the Mienshao there to keep watch. And so they got up, grabbing little plastic buckets that had been fashioned in the shape of pumpkins with faces and set their eyes towards the door, only for Mr. Doe to cut in by clearing his throat.
“Just a minute, kids,” he said. “Aren’t you all forgetting someone?”
The Doe children traded looks with one another, when a low, grumbling growl came from the kitchen. There, the family’s Druddigon trudged out into the living room with her wings held flat and her eyes narrowed as she too had been dressed up for the occasion—as an armored warrior that humans call a “knight”. Her “armor” that night was fashioned from an old sweatshirt and some cut-up windshield shades, with its chest piece decorated with a white circle ringed by four black triangles. One that, color aside, was a spitting image for the same sigil that pops up in and around the floors and friezes of Dragonspiral Tower. Mr. and Mrs. Doe had even gone through the trouble of fashioning a cardboard helmet for her that slipped around the back of her head crest with ruddy feathers plucked from a worn-out duster.
“Wow! Neela’s costume really turned out great!” Jane cheered. “She looks great as a knight!”
“I still say that she’d have looked better in that costume I found at the store of that armor from that ‘Rotor’ kingdom,” John insisted. “But hey, you can’t say it’s not a good runner-up!”
“It’s a shame that she didn’t like getting her scales painted,” James murmured. “I thought she’d look really good going as that one red computer dragon for her costume, but she looks good this way too!”
Which was all fun-and-games for everyone involved… except the Druddigon herself at the time thought it looked downright ridiculous. She gave a grumbling tug at a shoulder pad when her Mienshao mentor came over and pawed at her, grinning and reminding her that she was the one who insisted on not being left out of trick-or-treating this year. That if she was going to come along, that it was only proper she take part in all of it.
The Druddigon sighed and followed along. She supposed that she had said something to that effect. In the few years since she joined the Does, she at first didn’t pay any attention to this ‘Halloween’. It was some foolishness on a chilly autumn night that her mentor’s kind was more prepared for with his fur and warm blood.
But seeing him go out and come back every year merry and full of cheer had made her increasingly worried that she’d been missing out. Perhaps there was a bit of petty envy involved in her decision-making, but as a fellow guardian over the Doe children, it didn’t seem right to be wholly absent from such a time in her companions’ lives.
Or at least, she thought that until the said children opened the front door and let the mid-autumn chill into the house.
“Drud!”
The dragon brought her arms over each other and turned away with a disgusted growl. She raised her voice in protest, insisting that surely whatever festivities the Does had in mind could be done indoors, and if not, perhaps she was just better off standing guard at home with their parents another year. Somebody had to defend the house against the likes of those dreaded “tee-pee”ers that were supposed to go about making mischief on this night, and it was surely more enjoyable than trudging around in the cold all evening.
“Axew! Axew!”
The Druddigon immediately stiffened up and paused at the sound of a young drake’s voice calling from the doorway. The dragoness blinked and turned to see an Axew darting up to her, dressed in a blue cape and pointed hat with stars who greeted her with a cheery wag of his tail. Her next-door neighbor from the Verne household, and right behind him, the dark-haired neighbor girl who was his trainer—Carol, who came dressed that night in a top hat and cape like her Pokémon’s with a magician’s wand in her grasp.
“Hey! Ready for trick-or-treating, Neela?” the neighbor girl asked. “I see you decided to play against type, but it’s not a bad thing. I think your costume looks great on you!”
The Druddigon blinked after the Axew pawed at her and beamed up, saying that he was a little jealous of her costume since it made her look big and strong, and when the light was right, it even shined a little bit like treasure would. That he was eagerly looking forward to passing the night together and was sure they’d have fun that Halloween.
The larger dragon wasn’t sure what to make of that. She turned her head out towards the evening weather through the doorway, and down at the excited little drake by her. He was actually looking forward to going out into the autumn chill like this?
“Druddi… gon?”
The Mienshao shook his head and chuckled, pulling the Druddigon aside as he told her in their tongue that it wasn’t for the sake of the weather that humans went on this ‘Halloween’. It was an occasion to make merry and be a bit silly in good company, and for more daring souls, to make tests of one’s bravery. Even if a few of the particulars struck himself as strange during his own first Halloween, he’d grown used to them and was sure that she would too.
The Druddigon blinked and looked over towards the other Pokémon gathered in the living room. John’s Whirlipede. Jane’s Cubone and Deerling. Carol’s Axew… even if they looked a bit silly right now in their costumes, she supposed that they did look like they were enjoying themselves.
The Dragon-type turned back and took her place alongside the Doe children, though Mr. and Mrs. Doe noticed her initial hesitation. They eyed the lot skeptically for a moment, before Mr. Doe tilted his head down and spoke back sternly to his children.
“Remember kids, if you’re going out for Halloween, everyone needs to have fun with it,” Mr. Doe reminded. “Make sure you’re not putting your Pokémon up to anything they won’t enjoy.”
The children all nodded back dutifully in reply, as John gave a wave of a hand and pulled his cape up tightly against himself with a smirk. This wasn’t his first Halloween alongside his Pokémon, and he was all too eager to remind his parents of that.
“Oh don’t worry, dad. We’ve got just the place in mind for that.”
Now most human settlements aren’t particularly spread out. Even if it’s a bit bigger than the likes of rural hamlets such as Nuvema Town, Icirrus City was compact enough that the Does and their neighbor were able to make their way to its center on foot fairly easily. Along the way, they spotted other children and Pokémon similarly costumed for the night, including a few humans and Pokémon who were visibly bigger and stronger than the Druddigon expected to be wearing such silly costumes. Clearly this ‘Halloween’ was more than just a night for human whelps like she’d initially assumed.
And most surprising of all, the neighborhoods they passed through had been decorated for the occasion. Almost like it was a spookier Christmas with somewhat better weather. There were the carved pumpkins that were lit up with candles inside and set out on porches and on lawns, toy silk webs draped from awnings—with a few real ones made by the likes of Sewaddle thrown in the mix to boot. Other houses had Woobat and Zubat decorations hung up on eaves and in windows, and a few had more elaborate decorations with skeletons and mock ghosts and ghouls of various sorts.
Carol’s Axew would sidle up tight against the Druddigon or his trainer when passing by a few of the eerier decorations, but the Druddigon made a point of keeping a straight face. After all, her kind’s eyes could pierce through the night and darkened places almost as comfortably as they could spot things in broad daylight. And even if she’d been inexperienced, she was a Pokémon that had once stood guard about Dragonspiral Tower.
What were these ghosts and ghouls compared to the Golett and Golurk that helped watch over that ancient place?
The Druddigon initially assumed that they’d all surely be headed to one of the city’s windmills, since it would’ve been a good vantage point to behold all these decorations. Except, much to her surprise, the children’s course took the dragoness and the others to a most unexpected destination…
“Brycen’s Gym? Really?”
The local gym, much to Carol and her Axew’s visible displeasure.
Now to be fair on John, the idea that the local Gym would have some sort of event going on during a holiday wasn’t that unreasonable. In Unova and other regions, they apparently trace their roots from organized bands of humans and partnering Pokémon who would stand guard under the direction of a local champion. Bodies of guards who would come to the town’s aid and test those among them who wished to join their ranks. Not wholly unlike the way that the Pokémon in and around Dragonspiral Tower stand guard over their own home.
But that’s a story in and of itself, a story of settlements growing closer to each other, and to the Pokémon around them over time. Though right then and there, Brycen’s frigid gym was hardly what came to mind for the Druddigon as a logical place to hold festivities of any sort.
After all, it was colder inside than it was outdoors for most seasons of the year. And for the Does’ Druddigon in particular, it carried many memories of repeated, icy losses in battle to various opponents inside its walls. Losses that even after a few turns of the seasons, still stung her pride.
“Drud?”
The Druddigon mirrored the expression of her fellow Dragon-type and his trainer, except her attention was trained on the pirate-garbed Mienshao in their midst. The weasel chuckled and shook his head back, insisting to the Druddigon in his own tongue to not be so hasty to judge from appearances.
The Druddigon raised a brow at that, only to be cut off by John piping up and waving in reassurance to Carol.
“Hey, don’t knock it until you see it!” John insisted. “There’s all sorts of fun to be had here!”
The neighbor girl frowned, only for her to turn the corner and abruptly pause along with her Axew. The Druddigon blinked and followed their gaze, where her wings at once bat wide with surprise at the sight of the entrance to Brycen’s Gym.
“Druddigon?!”
There, the entire street in front of its cavernous entrance was awash with stalls and festival lights. With food and humans and Pokémon in various costumes milling about from stand to stand. There was the Excadrill in a hard hat trading cheery laughter with a Palpitoad with a toy crown and robe blowing out bubbles. A Beheeyem and his trainer, donning tuxedos with sunglasses and toy guns that chirped like Cricketot milling in front of a photo booth. Why, even Brycen himself was present, signing autographs dressed up in some sort of ridiculous masked purple and green outfit with a flowing cape—some sort of supervillain character he’d always taken a fancy to that he’s played a lot since going back into film.
“Beartic?”
Even his Beartic had dressed up for the occasion himself, approaching the group in a costume that looked much like his trainer’s normal Gym garb. The Ice-type gave a nod in greeting, wishing the group to enjoy themselves at the festival’s attractions that night before moving along to mingle with other visitors.
The Beartic’s well-wishes went over the heads of the present children, but even so, they seemed to piece together his intent. And after a little bit of looking around, Carol realized that the festival all seemed more familiar to her than she assumed, and gave a sheepish paw at the back of her head.
“Oh, so the Gym here also throws Halloween parties,” Carol said. “I… guess I should’ve seen that one coming.”
Her Axew let out a dismissive snort, grumbling in his tongue about how fairs of the sort back home in Opelucid City were better since they had the familiar faces of fellow dragons and didn’t have such intolerable cold right next to it. But his protest went unheard, including by his Druddigon companion, who gaped around her surroundings with a sense of quiet wonder.
Why it was almost like that summer gathering of dragons the children had gone to in Opelucid! There were fewer Pokémon of her kind and of course the weather was still chillier than she’d have liked… but she supposed she could see why some Pokémon might take a shine to this ‘Halloween’.
“Looks fun, don’t you think, Neela?” James asked. “What do you want to do first?”
The Druddigon blinked and tilted her head in reply at James in his pirate garb, when her Mienshao mentor nudged her and cracked a grin from the corner of his mouth. Even if it was a human holiday, there was plenty of fun to still be had for Pokémon like them, he reassured. And if she’d just brave the cold for a night, she’d find herself well-rewarded.
The Druddigon looked about at the surrounding fair and nodded her head back. The Mienshao was more experienced with the ways of humans than her, and she supposed that even if it seemed strange that there would be a fair at this late season, she could give it a chance.
The youngsters’ visit to the local Gym’s fair took them from stall to stall, as they and their Pokémon whiled away their time with treats and delights. As a festive occasion, there were games and amusements for the attendees, both humans and Pokémon alike. Exhibition battles for trainers and their partners to prove their strength, others doing much the same with imagined ones on paper cards. There was a performer’s stage for music and displays of costumes, and even carnival games that’d been set out for the human and Pokémon present…
One of the more memorable ones involved dunking one’s head into a tub of water filled with apples, warmed enough to keep the fall weather at bay. Its goal sounded simple enough: to put one’s head in, clamp down on one of the ruddy fruits, and then display it proudly with one’s teeth like one might with hunted prey.
“D-Drud!”
Except when the Does’ Druddigon tried her claw at it, she quickly discovered the little fruits were devilishly evasive, always just slipping past the teeth and crags of her maw as she pulled her dripping head out from her most recent attempt with a spluttering whine. To add insult to injury, her competitors made it look all too easy, as her mentor to her left did, his face fur and bandana soaked, and the prize fruit dangling from his muzzle.
“Akthew! Akthew!”
And then there was Carol’s Axew, who’d just pulled his head out of his own tub to the right, with his jaws still clamped around one of the fruits in triumph. The third he’d snagged while playing. The Druddigon blinked with an incredulous scowl, before the Does led her off along with their companions and left others to take their places at the tubs. The Druddigon looked back at them and folded her arms with a pouting grunt. Of course a game with fruits would advantage a berry-eater like the Axew while a hunter like her would struggle with it.
The Druddigon felt soft fabric pat at her head, looking up to see Jane with her cardboard helmet, wiping away water off her scales. And just past her, there was Carol approaching with a pat at her shoulder as her Axew came along with his latest prize in tow.
“Aw, don’t be upset, Neela. Bobbing for apples is harder than it looks,” the neighbor girl insisted. “It took Chopper a few Halloweens to get good at it himself.”
The Axew fiddled around with the apple in his claws and pawed his foot against the ground uneasily, before raising it before his Druddigon companion.
“Ax… ew?”
He explained that he understood how upsetting coming up short in spite of one’s best efforts was, and that he didn’t want to fill himself up too much before it was time to gather treats. He held up the fruit in offering, insisting that he was sure that in due time, she too would snag an apple of her own.
Perhaps all she needed to do was to take a step back and use her head a bit.
The Druddigon blinked, before taking the apple and taking a bite from it. It was a bit tart, but not bad. She then eyed the apples in the tubs and peeked up at her head. She supposed the ridges of her crest did look like they could trap an apple decently well. Perhaps she’d have to try and take up the Axew’s advice and snatch one of the fruits that way.
The thought abruptly slipped from mind though, after a stiff, chilly wind blew in and the Druddigon froze in place. She shivered briefly at that persistent bother that had seemingly been ever-ready to smother her snatches of enjoyment with the fair.
The Dragon-type glanced over at Jane’s waist, where a holster for Pokéballs sat on top of her Mienfoo costume, with her own resting on it. The Druddigon lowered her head and reflexively reached out, only for the girl to suddenly pull away and the Druddigon to feel a tug at her arm.
“Hey! Don’t just go back in there!”
The dragoness blinked and glanced over her shoulder, where there was James at her side, Chatot doll tucked under an arm as he looked at her with a protesting frown.
“If your costume doesn’t go in with you, it’ll be a mess to put it back on you again!” James insisted. “Didn’t you want to go trick-or-treating later?”
The Druddigon hesitated and slunk back with a low grumble. She supposed she did commit to going along with the Does, but she didn’t understand how anyone was supposed to have fun with this blasted chill in the air. Carol’s Axew and Jane’s Cubone, both creatures sensitive to the cold themselves, were with her yet they seemed to be managing fine. She blinked and turned to them puzzledly, asking in their tongue how it was that they weren’t bothered by the weather.
“Ax?”
“Bone?”
The pair motioned to the capes on their costumes and gave sheepish shrugs back. It was a bit chilly, but their costumes had been made with that in mind and helped keep the weather at bay. The Druddigon screwed her eyes shut and shivered briefly with a sour grumble. Sure, that was fine for them, but it was cold comfort for her and her own costume that only covered her shoulders and chest.
By then, the Doe children had clearly noticed the dragon’s plight, as Jane turned her head over towards her and shook it with a low sigh.
“... I guess we should’ve stuck with the idea of making a costume for her that matched Chopper’s,” she sighed. “Even that idea of having her go around under a cardboard box probably would’ve shielded her from the cold better.”
Her brothers glanced over their Dragon-type companion as their parents’ Mienshao sidled up beside her and pressed up against her to pass along some warmth. John murmured under his breath about how ‘this wouldn’t have happened if we’d gotten the costume I wanted for her’, while James traded glances between the family’s Druddigon and his fellow youngsters.
“So what are we supposed to do now?” the younger boy asked.
“Maybe it’d make sense to try and find something to do indoors?” Carol suggested. “It’s what I do whenever the weather on Halloween gets too cold for Chopper to have fun.”
“... You do realize that this is Brycen’s Gym, right?” Jane replied. “Going inside isn’t a guarantee it’ll be warmer.”
The Does’ dragon stiffened up and beat her wings with a start. She’d understood enough to gather that the children were talking about heading into that glorified freezer of a Gym behind them. Surely that wasn’t what they meant to suggest they do now, was it?
“Shao! Shao!”
The Druddigon turned her head after her Mienshao mentor called out and tugged at John’s cape, motioning off with a paw. She followed it along, and saw he was pointing at some sort of little cottage styled like an older, larger house. The sort that humans like showing off in movies meant to scare them.
The specifics of the Fighting-type’s words went over the elder boy’s head, but even so, he quickly put two and two together from the Mienshao’s suggestion.
“... Well, I suppose there is the Haunted House,” John suggested. “It was heated last year, so it’d definitely be warmer than outside right now.”
The children’s Pokémon turned towards the cottage, John and Jane’s companions lighting up excitedly much to the Druddigon’s curiosity. In sharp contrast, Carol’s Axew cringed with an audible gulp, hurrying over to his trainer and pawing at her with a low whine. The Druddigon blinked at his reaction, noting that Carol herself seemed to hesitate as she traded glances between her Pokémon and the eldest Doe child.
“Egh… I don’t know if that’s a good idea, John,” the neighbor girl murmured. “Chopper hasn’t done well with Haunted Houses in the past.”
And he still doesn’t to this day. Though at the time, his reaction was mystifying to the Druddigon, and she turned over to her mentor and wondered aloud why a dingy-looking house would worry Carol’s Axew so.
“Mienshao…”
The Mienshao explained that it was a place where humans went to test their bravery, even if he found it a bit underwhelming himself. Inside, there’d be darkened rooms, sudden noises, and a couple decorations of various ghouls scattered about to try and give those passing through a start. Why, with the way her eyes could pick through dimly-lit places, surely being in Dragonspiral Tower during a thunderstorm would be a more intimidating experience for her.
The dragoness beat her wings and hesitated. Being in Dragonspiral Tower during inclement weather could be nerve-wracking indeed, but she thought of herself as a Pokémon that’d outgrown the frights of a young whelp. This supposed ‘test of bravery’ didn’t sound that bad, and like as good an opportunity as any to get out of the autumn chill.
“A-Ax!”
Except, something about the way Carol’s Axew protested and whined about the idea gave her pause. He’d always been a bit timid in nature, but his insistence worried her that things weren’t as black and white as her mentor said. And then there was James, who’d noticed her and the Axew’s hesitance and turned to his siblings.
“... Wait, but are we sure that’s a good idea?” James asked. “Mom and dad did say to make sure our Pokémon were also having fun with whatever we were doing.”
The Druddigon faltered a moment, when John and Jane’s Pokémon gathered around and urged her to come.
“Whirlipede?”
John’s Whirlipede was the most aggressive of the lot as he chimed in with a chittering smirk. Surely a Druddigon of stock that watched over ancient shrines wouldn’t be afraid of such a place, would she? The Does’ Mienshao noticed the Bug-type’s behavior and sharply frowned, opening his mouth to scold him…
“Gon!”
Only for the charge to make up the Druddigon’s mind up for her. She stomped over beside John, lowering her head and flaring her wings out with a sharp grunt. Her kind watched over shrines to Unova’s gods, of course she wouldn’t fear a few jump scares.
John, Jane, James, and Carol blinked at her display, when the elder Doe boy smiled and shook his head.
“Looks like Neela wants to go. And Chopper has always been bolder with someone looking out for him,” John insisted.
Carol and her Axew both wavered a moment, her Pokémon letting out a low whine before the Druddigon gave a determined grunt and motioned over towards herself. She was strong and fierce, and could surely keep whatever lay inside this ‘Haunted House’ at bay.
There was a moment of lingering silence, before the Axew warily trudged over alongside his larger counterpart. He was willing to give things a chance with her as his defender, a turn of events which prompted John to look over to Carol with a sly grin.
“Come on, Neela and Chopper are dragons,” he insisted. “I’m sure they’ll handle it fine.”
True to the Mienshao’s words, the inside of the ‘Haunted House’ was as he described. A darkened, abandoned-looking place, adorned with fake cobwebs and various ghouls lurking in the dark, and what looked like glowing eyes shining back at them.
“Ah ha ha ha…”
And sure enough, every now and then, there would be a loud sound that would suddenly come from parts that even the Druddigon had trouble following with her ears. A ghoulish laugh, a creak, a thunderclap…
“A-Axew!”
All of which had worn down on her Axew companion’s nerves, and while she’d have never admitted it, her own as well. The interiors of the little cottage weren’t hard for her to see, but nonetheless, she’d gotten the distinct sense that they weren’t alone. Every now and then, she’d hear ghostly murmurs or see movement from the corner of her eyes that would make her freeze.
“Hey, Neela! What’s the holdup?”
Enough so that it made her wonder how John and the others seemed so unfazed. The only ones who appeared bothered at all were James, who remained firmly at her mentor’s side and tightly grasped his paw, and Carol, who looked back worriedly just as the childrens’ Druddigon and Axew companions caught up with them in a tall room decorated with a black chandelier.
“... Maybe it’s a good idea to turn back,” the Verne girl said. “I really don’t think Chopper and Neela are enjoying this.”
The Druddigon abruptly stiffened up after the chandelier seemed to rock briefly, before dismissing it as a trick of her eyes. John hadn’t noticed anything himself, and he was too busy facing Carol, frowning and rolling his eyes in reply.
“Oh come on, they barely change this thing every year,” he scoffed. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
The Mienshao turned over to his Druddigon counterpart with a worried frown, noting she was visibly stiff and tense.
“Shao?”
He brushed at her shoulder, asking if she was doing alright. The dragoness sputtered back in protest that she was fine, that the sounds she was hearing were probably just the cottage settling.
Until she noticed Carol’s Axew flush pale and point off at the ceiling.
“A-Ax…”
The Axew whimpered that the chandelier was floating down, which prompted the Druddigon to look up and her blood to run cold. The chandelier was floating down, straight at them. Even the children and their Pokémon had noticed it and stiffened up, as the Druddigon’s eyes shrank and her breaths came tight and quick.
“Drud… D-Drud…”
And then the chandelier suddenly came alive with a flash of violet fire and burning, yellow eyes staring at her. And the dragon’s nerves came undone entirely with a shrill scream.
“DRUDDIGON!”
A few minutes later, the Does and their Pokémon were safely back outside in the autumn air. Carol was busy patting her Axew as he shivered and whined in her arms, burying his face in her magician’s outfit. She looked up between murmuring reassurances, sharply scowling up at John as he tugged flusteredly at the hem of his shirt.
“... Sorry, I didn’t see the part about one of the Elite Four helping run the local Haunted House this year,” he sighed. “Guess I should’ve expected Shauntal would’ve had some of her Pokémon chip in for the experience.”
He should’ve known better, honestly. It’s apparently a tradition of Haunted Housesto enlist the help of Pokémon to give their attendees their scares, and when the star performer that year was Shauntal’s Chandelure…
Well, it’d be hard to fault any Pokémon for getting a start.
“Whirl! Whirl!”
Not that it was any comfort for the Does’ Druddigon as she pinned her wings back and screwed her eyes shut with a mortified grimace, as snickers from John and Jane’s Pokémon reached her ears. The dragoness cracked her eyes open briefly and turned her head over to the family Mienshao, seeing him pawing sheepishly at the back of his scarved head.
“Druddigon...”
She let out a sour huff and turned away, as he bit his lip and sidled up against her, giving an apology in his own tongue. Clearly humans’ Haunted Houses did still have a few surprises, since the Chandelure had given him a start as well.
It did little to lift her mood, as the Druddigon sulked and brushed his paw away. A moment after, Carol stood up with her Axew in her arms, turning to her neighbors with a low sigh.
“... I think that it’s time to go home,” she said. “Chopper’s had enough excitement for one day.”
“Huh?!” James started. “But we haven’t even been here an hour—!”
“Druddigon!”
The boy was cut off with a low growl as the family Druddigon folded her arms with a sharp scowl. Even if the specifics of the outburst weren’t understood, her intent was clear enough.
Her pride had been wounded enough for one night, and she was ready to put this blasted festival behind her. The Doe children traded grudging looks with one another, when Jane sighed and lowered her head.
“... We did promise mom and dad that we’d make sure our Pokémon were having fun too,” she said. “I guess we ought to at least drop you and Neela off home if you’re really not having fun anymore…”
The walk back from the Gym’s fair was markedly less enthusiastic, as John, Jane, James, and Carol drifted into the residential quarters of Icirrus along with their Pokémon. The whole time, John and Jane’s Pokémon grumbled to themselves in their tongues about how their fun had been cut short, and wondered aloud why the Druddigon couldn’t have just gone back to her Pokéball so they could continue enjoying their time at the fair.
“Gon!”
Time and again she would cut their grumblings short with a low growl and overpowering glare from her position alongside James and the Does’ Mienshao at the rear of the group. She didn’t bother paying attention to the decorations on the way back as they began to pop up again with the surrounding houses. The carved pumpkins and decorative ghosts and ghouls now did little more than to remind her of the incident in the Haunted House and her still-smarting pride.
“Mien…”
The dragoness raised her head and glanced out the side of her eye at her Mienshao mentor, who’d pinned his ears back and lowered his head with an apologetic murmur. He insisted he’d genuinely thought that she’d have enjoyed the company with the children as always, and would not have suggested she’d come along if he had known she was going to have such an unenjoyable experience.
A stiff wind kicked up and made the Druddigon shiver, pulling her arms over herself with a low yelp. Just what was the point of a night that was dead set on trying to make a Pokémon quiver, if not from cold, then from fright?
The Druddigon felt fabric brush her wing’s scales and stiffened up, looking to see John coming over, his costume’s cape taken off and now in his hands.
“Here, Neela. Try wearing this,” he offered. “It can’t possibly make you feel any colder right now.”
The Dragon-type blinked as John slipped his cape over her back, running the pins into her costume’s shoulder pads. The Druddigon blinked and beat her wings, looking back to see the costume’s cowl turned inside-out with its red interior facing outwards as the boy cracked a small smile, fake fangs and all.
“Even a human knight would probably need a cape in this weather,” he said. “Sorry for not thinking of doing this sooner.”
The Druddigon pawed at the cloth and pulled it around her body, discovering much to her surprise that it really did help keep the wind at bay. She supposed that she could understand how her Axew friend had been so eager to go out when his costume had a cape of his own, even if the earlier fright had surely sapped his appetite for further play.
“Axew! Axew!”
The Druddigon looked up and noticed the children turn their heads, as said Axew veered off and scampered off towards a door at a porch lit up with bright lights. His trainer paused and started after him as he made his way for a bowl by the frame, giving curious sniffs as his trainer frowned puzzledly at him.
“... Chopper? What are you doing?”
The others made their way up, both human and Pokémon alike. Just then, the Axew poked his head in, lingering before pulling it away with a disappointed whine. The Druddigon shuffled her way up and spotted the bowl, noting that it looked much like the ones the Does kept in their kitchen, just empty.
For a moment, she thought it was surely another human practice, only to catch a lingering smell of sugar from it. And with the way the children were trading looks with one another themselves, something clearly wasn’t quite right.
The door’s lock abruptly clicked and it creaked, making the Druddigon and Axew alike jump back with a start. The Druddigon stiffened up, expecting another ambush to try and make a fool of herself, only to see an older woman with grayed hair at the doorway.
“Oh! You’re that family from up the street! The ‘Does’, right?” the woman asked. “You’ve certainly brought some new faces along with you this year.”
The Druddigon blinked briefly, before Jane’s Cubone explained that this was one of their neighbors from further afar. A familiar face for her and the others who’d gone off for fun and games on Halloweens past.
“It’s ‘Carol’, I’m their new neighbor. And the Axew’s my Pokémon, ‘Chopper’,” the Verne magician said. “Though how come you set a bowl outside if you’re home for trick-or-treating?”
A nudge from the Mienshao turned the Druddigon’s attention to her right. He explained that she and her Axew companion were quite fortunate! This particular neighbor wasn’t around to answer the door every Halloween night. The dragoness turned her head with a quizzical tilt, her Axew companion following suit with a puzzled blink.
They’d been fortunate? But how?
“Wasn’t sure if I’d make it home in time to hand out candy, really,” the elder woman replied. “But since you’re here, I’ve actually got something for you and your Pokémon. Consider it a belated housewarming gift.”
The woman slipped past the door, as faint footsteps drifted off. A few moments later, the woman was back with a small bowl, stooping and holding it out in front of Carol’s Axew with a warm smile.
“After all, these should interest a Pokémon like yours, right?”
The woman briefly revealed that the bowl was full of candy coins in shiny foil wrapping. Gleaming treasures that made the Axew’s eyes glisten and the young drake squeal with delight. The Axew perked up, proudly flaring his cape and puffing his chest out and even mimicking his trainer’s cry of “Trick or Treat!” in his tongue.
For which he was richly rewarded alongside his trainer with a handful of the treats, the woman stooping down and patting at his head with a small smile.
“Hah, you’ve trained the little one well for him to get into the holiday spirit like this.”
“Druddigon! Druddigon!”
And not to be outdone, the Druddigon hurried up herself, batting her own wings out and spreading her recently acquired cape with similar flair. She too had come in a costume that night, and with a wag of her tail and a “Trick or Treat!” of her own… surely giving her treasure too would only be right.
The rest of her companions turned and stared briefly, but the Druddigon’s instincts proved on the mark, as after a chuckle she too was rewarded by the pensioner with a clawful of sweets with glistening wrappers and a beaming grin on her maw. A turn of events which made the Mienshao chuckle as he couldn’t help but smile at the sight.
A couple minutes later, the children and their Pokémon were off, their plastic tubs filled with treasured delights. Along the way, James looked back, toy sword in hand, giving a smiling cheer to the old woman at the door.
“Thank you!” James cheered. “Happy Halloween!”
The lot made their way along, the Druddigon glimpsing and prodding at the treasures in James’ bucket. A shared holding place for the clawfuls she, the boy, and their Mienshao companion had secured. The other children did much the same, and for a while, one could be forgiven for thinking that perhaps they’d have a dragon’s mind themselves from the way they pawed over their newfound hoards.
“Well, I’m glad that Halloween wasn’t a total bust, at least,” John said. “Though I guess that’s our cue to get going home—”
“Druddigon! Druddigon!”
The boy was cut off by a tug at his shoulder as they saw a trainer draped in a white cloth with holes cut for eyes with a Pignite similarly dressed as a bedsheet ghost drifting off from a lit house just up ahead. The Dragon-type turned with a tilt of her head and a wag of her tail.
That house was also giving out treasure too. Surely they’d have time to gather more from a second one… wouldn’t they?
The Doe children traded puzzled glances with one another, as Jane gave a bemused quirk of her brow.
“... You getting into trick or treating, Neela?” she asked. “I can’t say I was expecting that, but I guess we can make a few stops on the way home.”
“Trick or treat!”
“A few stops” proved closer to “a dozen”. As the Does’ Druddigon regained her festive mood with her appetite whetted for baubles and glistening treasures that were just being given away. And in due time, the Does and their Pokémon had amassed quite a set of hoards, with the young couple at their present house topping things off with another helping of candies in shiny and colorful wrappers.
The children and their Pokémon gave their thanks and moved along for the next house. The Does’ Mienshao gave a cheerful smile as they reached the sidewalk, taking a pair of loose gumdrops from James’ bucket and popping one into his mouth before passing the other along to his Druddigon companion with an open paw.
“Mienshao!”
A small taste of things to come after their treasure-gathering came to an end, he explained. The Druddigon popped the candy into her own mouth and gave a content rumble. It was a bit sweeter than she’d like, but free treasures and treats? Why if she’d known this was what ‘Halloween’ was all about, she’d have braved the autumn chill years ago!
“Looks like the house next door’s trick or treating, too,” John remarked. “Come on, let’s see what they’re giving out.”
That was all the encouragement everyone needed, as human and Pokémon made their way along up a front walk lined with pumpkins with a skeleton hanging from the eave of the porch. The Druddigon wondered to herself briefly why humans would be so unfazed by hanging out the bones of their own kind, and raised a claw to give a curious poke.
“Muahahaha!”
And suddenly jolted back after the skeleton’s eyes flashed red and its chest came alive with a blue, fiery glow and a malicious laugh from above. The children and their Pokémon collectively froze, their eyes shrinking to pins with a start.
“A-AXEW!”
And as for Carol’s poor Axew, the encounter was almost enough to stop the poor dragon’s heart. He dove behind his Druddigon companion, hiding away from the skeleton with a frightened squeal. The Druddigon trembled a bit, before catching herself after recognizing the fire’s color and realizing it reminded her of another kind.
She wasn’t sure what lay ahead of her, but she grit her teeth, digging in her claws and spreading her wings wide. She’d been made to look a fool once that night, and there she resolved that she would suffer the same fate a second time.
“Druddigon!”
The Dragon-type flashed her fangs and bellowed with all of her might, when the light in the skeleton abruptly went dark and a creature fell out crying out in fright.
“W-Wick! Litwick!”
The Druddigon looked down, seeing a little candle-like creature hurriedly slink for the door. The little wraith phased through and the porch dimmed in his wake.
As expected, another prank, but this time she had seen through it. Behind her, John sighed and narrowed his eyes with a frown.
“Hrmph, looks like Old Man Monroe’s Litwick bit off more than he could chew this year,” John scoffed. “Didn’t think it’d be Neela of all Pokémon who’d give him a scare.”
Carol’s Axew poked his head out and tried to process the sight, with the culprit of his scare gone, things would surely be safe…
Right?
“Muahahaha!”
The Axew flinched again at the sound and shrank back, only to notice the skeleton’s eyes would light up and then fade after its spooky laugh. The Druddigon tugged at the bones hanging and discovered they felt strangely light. Plastic, with the decoration coming alive with so much as a wave of a claw or a soft touch.
Carol’s Axew blinked and let out a sheepish laugh as he pawed at the hem of his wizard’s hat. After seeing the skeleton up close, it wasn’t as scary as he thought, and… he couldn’t help but feel a bit silly he’d been afraid of that.
Carol stepped in. “I never liked those sorts of decorations even without Pokémon taking advantage of them to prank others,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “They always seemed mean to kids and Pokémon that startle easily.”
The Does and their Pokémon made their way off to solicit treats once again. This time, their Druddigon companion hung back, glimpsing over their shoulder to see an older man approaching with a bowl, and the Litwick from earlier safely hiding behind his legs.
The Dragon-type couldn’t help but smile a bit, satisfied that her own scare had taken the Ghost-type down a peg.
Even so, there was one piece of the puzzle she didn’t understand just yet.
“Gon?”
She called out for her Mienshao mentor motioning at the skeleton, watching it come alive with a cackle upon his approach. Just how had the skeleton been laughing on its own all this time?
“Shao.”
The Fighting-type raised a paw and motioned off at the skull’s mouth. There were little holes present, signs of a speaker, no doubt. The Druddigon floated her theory to her mentor who replied with a nod.
Such hidden noisemakers were popular among humans looking to give others a start, including at the Haunted House back at Brycen’s Gym. Ones that Ghost-types like the Litwick would take advantage of to ply their startling arts. They’d also frightened him once when he was younger, but after a few Halloweens it was difficult for such contraptions to surprise him anymore.
The Druddigon fell silent and pawed at her crest with a sheepish grin. Why, after hearing it explained, it definitely did make the Haunted House seem less frightening than a stormy day at Dragonspiral Tower, much to her chagrin. She almost had half a mind to ask the Does to go back to the fair and give her another chance to make her way through it, thinking that if Carol’s Axew were tipped off to its workings himself, perhaps even he would find it hard to give him a fright.
“Duke! Neela! Aren’t you two going to come and show off your costumes?”
A glance back up revealed James waving at them from the door. That train of thought could wait for later. There was still treasure left for them to secure.
Time seemed to fly by afterwards along with the houses, and before they knew it, the Druddigon found herself with John, Jane, James, and Carol dividing their spoils amongst themselves and their Pokémon on the Does’ front porch. With their plastic buckets filled to bursting, there wasn’t any need for squabbling with how plentiful their hoards were. Far too much for anyone to eat in a night.
But even so, the children made a point of setting aside certain candies for their Pokémon, ones they’d taken particular likings to in previous years.
“Axew! Axew!”
Or in the case of Carol’s Axew, ones whose coverings he’d taken a shine to, much like the peppermint he unwrapped, adding the glinting wrapper to a small pile by his feet. After each covering he undid, he’d greedily eat up some of his candies while others he’d pass over to his trainer after parting it with the precious covering over it.
The Does’ Druddigon learned quickly from her smaller counterpart, happily trading off her own drabber sweets in favor of ones that gleamed under the moonlight above. Except, she couldn’t help but raise a brow at her tusked companion’s behavior. Why was he so willing to be parted from the treats his treasure hid inside?
“Drud!”
A bite into a red tube-like candy with sugar crystals on the outside provided a swift answer, the larger dragon sticking her tongue out and screwing her eyes shut with a disgusted groan. Much to her unpleasant surprise, the precious wrapping hid a sour flavor within, one that reminded her of unripened berries from the brush.
The Mienshao took the rest of the sour straw from her claw and popped it into his mouth. One couldn’t be too hasty with such sweets, he chuckled, and as she just learned, judging candies by their wrappers was a recipe for an unpleasant surprise. The Druddigon frowned back with a low grunt, only for him to reach into James’ bucket and pull out a little ball on a stick, a “lollipop” as humans call them, and insisted she lick it and try it on for size.
The dragon looked down at the ball and stick, before warily running her tongue over it, and discovering that it was a sweet, fruity delight. So that was why Carol’s Axew had been so willing to part with pieces of his hoard. Clearly she had much to learn from him and her mentor about the workings of this Halloween on some other night.
She let her eyes drift down towards a small mound of wrappers between her legs and let out a disappointed whine. If only they didn’t have to be taken off to get at the candies within! Why, without their shape and physical volume, her new treasure hoard felt a bit flat to her. Literally, even.
“Xew! Axew!”
The Druddigon was answered with a cheerful grin from her Axew companion, beaming at her from under his pointed hat. Why, it wasn’t a problem if the treasures were a bit flat! As long as she held onto these treasures stubbornly for a few days, she could surely convince her humans to trade other ones like marbles in exchange. And they’d even repeat the trade for wrapping paper after Christmas to boot!
Sound advice really, since for humans, some of the things a dragon would consider treasure are mere trash to them. Though the dragons’ hoarding and trading was a story for another time, and right then, the Druddigon was content to make a note of the advice and focus on her treats at hand.
Clearly she’d missed out on quite a bit from skipping Halloween all these years, and even if it could be a bit silly, it really was a great night to spend with company.
“Looks like you all had a busy night. Did you have fun?”
The front door creaked open, where Mrs. Doe came out and greeted the children as they picked through their treat piles. They and their Pokémon looked up and traded glances with each other as Carol piped up, shooting back a warm smile.
“Yeah, we did,” the neighbor girl said. “Thanks for inviting me to come along, Mrs. Doe.”
The Druddigon gave a content bat of her wings, putting aside the stick of her lollipop after the attached sweets were eaten up with a crunch of her jaws. She shook her head and yawned briefly, when she felt a soft poke under her mock armor, and looked over to see James looking up with a curious tilt of his head.
“... Think you’ll come trick or treating again next time, Neela?” the young pirate asked.
The Druddigon nodded her head back, giving an eager growl in reply. Of course she’d come again, she wouldn’t dream of missing a night full of such cheer!
“Drud!”
The dragoness flinched as a chilly wind kicked up, billowing her cape out as she hastily caught it and pulled it tight against her sides. After a brief shiver, she gave a sheepish smile, making a slight clarification in her tongue:
She was looking forward to going trick-or-treating again… just as long as there’d be a warmer costume to wear next year.
And she made good on that promise, with some of those later Halloweens being quite the stories of their own. Though I’m afraid that this is where this one and my storytelling for the night ends.
After all, I’ll be going trick or treating myself shortly. So I’ll be a bit busy with my family and friends.
Heya, going around as part of my pre-RB4 review responses, since might as well square those away before I potentially get run over by a bunch of new ones starting in about a week:
Hello there! Here for Catnip (and the Halloween contest, if you see this on Bulba)! Gonna be honest and say that Halloween is one of my least favorite holidays, but even still, I have a few fond memories of it (remembering the time I dressed up as the periodic table), and this little oneshot really helped to remember and treasure those memories. (Yes I'm getting really sappy okay this fic just brings out the sappiest parts of me). You really captured the joy of the holiday in this one! It was a really fun romp, and it's nice to read a fic with lower stakes every once in a while, stories about the day-to-day lives of an average Pokémon or Poképerson. Little details like the Gym being a center of festivities and Brycen dressing up as Brycen-Man really stood out to me, as did the scared little Axew and the mischievous little Litwick. They helped to celebrate the simple joys of Halloween in a way that's uniquely Pokémon!
Glad to hear, really. Since the raison d'etre of this extra was more or less to show off "what would Halloween look like in a Pokémon world?" if it was more than an excuse to sell seasonal plushes for a month a year like in reality (well, that and I just really wanted to depict Chopper as a wizard lizard). It was a bit of a balancing act to come up with something that felt like it made the most of being in a Pokémon setting, but based off your review, it sounds like the one-shot did what it was supposed to. ^^
I had a bit of trouble parsing this sentence. Is it "but that color aside"? "That one color aside"?
I mean, the inner thoughts and workings of Pokémon are different from humans. Trying to reflexively force what you want to do on a man-sized agama sounds like a fast way to get roared in one's face. ^^;
Yeah, unfortunately such is life when you go barking up the wrong tree with your pranks in a Pokémon world. Every now and then, something much bigger and stronger sees through your gambit and calls you out very, very loudly.
But yeah, I had fun with this one. Hope to get around to finishing the main story some day. Happy belated Halloween, and keep up the good work!
And thanks for the review @Torchic W. Pip . It was a pleasure to see you had fun with the Halloween Extra, and I'll be looking forward to whenever you're able to come back to this story, since it's been a lot of fun to read the feedback you've provided thus far.
Hi Fobbie, I’m here for your catnip review. A couple of things before I start off propper. It’s worth noting that I am going into this completely blind from the main story as a whole, and as such I’m reviewing it as if it was a standalone work. And second, just a general note that I don’t really have much I felt the need to critique, so this is mostly just a conglomeration of trains of thought. Hopefully it’s helpful, regardless.
First things first, the framing device. Overall, I like it. I’m always down for unusual framing devices like this. In this case, it’s a written like someone recounting a story. And I thought it interesting that you had out loud spoken dialog treated like what a human would hear, while having the storyteller translate what the pokemon were saying through prose. It creates this neat dichotomy of “what the humans understand” and “what the pokemon understand. My only notable critique is that the very beginning doesn’t really introduce us to the narrator, which makes it a tiny bit more confusing as a standalone, but it's a relatively minor nitpick, especially given that most people reading this would be reading it with the greater work in mind.
I did find it kind of funny, once I realized that two of the humans were literally named “John and Jane Doe.” What I’m curious about is… was this because you just wanted a simple memorable name? Because you wanted them to kind of fade into the background given that they’re not really the most important part of the story, the pokemon are? Or something else entirely? The vibe I got was that it was the background thing, but IDK.
One critique I do have about the cast is that the whirlipede and cubone characters felt sort of underutilized. Not everyone needs to be a main character, but at times I forgot they were even there until a line or two of dialogue reminded me that they were.
But all that said, I overall felt this was a nice cute story that was an enjoyable read. I don’t really have much to say on it, but it was still a fun timekiller.
Heya, starting the process of my post-Review Blitz roundup of review responses, though I figured that I'd kick things off with the low-hanging fruit since some of my stories will be keeping me busy with responses this week. ^^
Hi Fobbie, I’m here for your catnip review. A couple of things before I start off propper. It’s worth noting that I am going into this completely blind from the main story as a whole, and as such I’m reviewing it as if it was a standalone work. And second, just a general note that I don’t really have much I felt the need to critique, so this is mostly just a conglomeration of trains of thought. Hopefully it’s helpful, regardless.
Fair enough, I made an attempt for the extra to be understandable in a standalone capacity since it originated as a contest submission, but I suppose that's a bit in the eye of the beholder.
First things first, the framing device. Overall, I like it. I’m always down for unusual framing devices like this. In this case, it’s a written like someone recounting a story. And I thought it interesting that you had out loud spoken dialog treated like what a human would hear, while having the storyteller translate what the pokemon were saying through prose. It creates this neat dichotomy of “what the humans understand” and “what the pokemon understand. My only notable critique is that the very beginning doesn’t really introduce us to the narrator, which makes it a tiny bit more confusing as a standalone, but it's a relatively minor nitpick, especially given that most people reading this would be reading it with the greater work in mind.
Hrm, a bit unfortunate to hear that since that probably would've impacted contest scoring had this piece not gotten DQed on a technicality back in the day. Though I suppose the capacity that most people would wind up reading this in would be closer to a story interlude at the midpoint of the overall story or else as a followup after the end.
But eh, I suppose those are just the breaks. I'll have to keep that in mind when choosing standalone chapters to enter into review exchanges in the future.
I did find it kind of funny, once I realized that two of the humans were literally named “John and Jane Doe.” What I’m curious about is… was this because you just wanted a simple memorable name? Because you wanted them to kind of fade into the background given that they’re not really the most important part of the story, the pokemon are? Or something else entirely? The vibe I got was that it was the background thing, but IDK.
It's meant to be a deliberate play off of how by the standards of their world, the Does are nobodies and their stories are a dime a dozen, even if they usually don't involve Druddigon in them. The fact that it rolls off the tongue decently well is just a bonus. There's actually a bit of lampshade hanging about it in the opening prologue of the story.
One critique I do have about the cast is that the whirlipede and cubone characters felt sort of underutilized. Not everyone needs to be a main character, but at times I forgot they were even there until a line or two of dialogue reminded me that they were.
They get utilized a bit more in the main story? ^^;
Though otherwise, yeah. This is a fair cop of a criticism, even if it's one of those flaws that I'm probably just going to opt to live with until that hypothetical day where I get motivated to do yet another from-the-ground rewrite of this story.
But all that said, I overall felt this was a nice cute story that was an enjoyable read. I don’t really have much to say on it, but it was still a fun timekiller.
And glad to hear you had fun with it even if it's a bit different from the fare I'm normally known for, @windskull . Thanks again for the review, even if it was a bit short, you still gave me some things to think on and keep in mind for the future.
This is even more storybook than Fledglings opening. Which, uh, I guess makes sense if this originally came first? [checks notes]
I'm unsure why all the narration is italicized. It doesn't seem to add much except be an unnecessary pain with formatting. If it's supposed to a be a stylistic thing to suggest someone's writing this down (or another idea that doesn't come to mind for me), I still don't think it was entirely necessary. The narrator themselves has enough character that they don't need some extra way to identify how separate and detached they seem from these events. Always the chance this is one of the characters in the future. The way they speak honestly reminds me of a PBS documentary narrator. Or maybe Bob Ross back when he was doing the Joys of Painting. Very calm and informative, with a little friendly playfulness and a bit of "Aw shucks, gee wiz" at times when relaying this story. Very cozy.
Kids feel like traditional bickering siblings and the parents seem, from the prologue at least, sitcom-esque, with the wife getting exasperated that the husband decided to do something big without properly consulting her. There's even a "It'll be good for them" versus "This will be a disaster."
All in all, very snug prologue. This review was sponsored by the corporation for public fan fic consumption... and readers like you.
That is correct, even if this story deliberately apes an epistolary style that Fledglings doesn’t use. I’m unsure if and when I’ll write another story using it, but it was a constant of this story going back to its original janky v1s, so I felt it was only natural to keep it around in the rewrite.
I'm unsure why all the narration is italicized. It doesn't seem to add much except be an unnecessary pain with formatting. If it's supposed to a be a stylistic thing to suggest someone's writing this down (or another idea that doesn't come to mind for me), I still don't think it was entirely necessary. The narrator themselves has enough character that they don't need some extra way to identify how separate and detached they seem from these events. Always the chance this is one of the characters in the future. The way they speak honestly reminds me of a PBS documentary narrator. Or maybe Bob Ross back when he was doing the Joys of Painting. Very calm and informative, with a little friendly playfulness and a bit of "Aw shucks, gee wiz" at times when relaying this story. Very cozy.
It’s meant to be a stylistic thing, yeah. I’ll put some thought into whether or not to axe it, though for the moment, I’m leaning to keeping it since it adds more contrast to the lines of character dialogue.
Though I’m glad to hear that the overall vibe of the narrator is coming through for you. That’s definitely something that’s come out a lot better than in the v1 of the story, since you get more of the narrator’s thought process shown off in the present version of the story. So it’s heartening to hear that it’s having the intended effect.
Kids feel like traditional bickering siblings and the parents seem, from the prologue at least, sitcom-esque, with the wife getting exasperated that the husband decided to do something big without properly consulting her. There's even a "It'll be good for them" versus "This will be a disaster."
All in all, very snug prologue. This review was sponsored by the corporation for public fan fic consumption... and readers like you.
You know, I could actually buy him being a fan of whatever his universe’s analogue to Iron Man is, since… yeah, he has a phase like that during the earlier parts of this story.
Clearly this is a substitution for a baby doll in home economics class.
To be fair, “most people” in Pokémon settings are NPCs, who have standards that are a wee bit different from the average player character, as lovingly illustrated by Joey and his Rattata he won’t ever shut up about. When you grow up in a town where there’s a species of Dragon-type that’s relatively easy to come by… they’ll have a way of looming large in the local consciousness since “I’ve got a dragon” is a conversation-starter in a way that “I’ve got a pigeon / baby deer / punchy weasel” can’t quite match.
You'd think that would be terribly for them from an evolutionary standpoint, considering they're coldblooded and the climate cannot be good for them.
Well, that, and Brycen would probably heartily insist that the town’s more synonymous with Cubchoo. Though that’s what brumation in the ancient ruins just north of said town is for. Tends to help keep things toasty enough to mount the wild encounter or two here or there.
Though thanks for the review, and for your patience for a response, even if it’s coming a bit earlier than I initially expected.
And as those of you familiar with my response patterns on my other stories likely gathered, I’ve actually got a batch of fresh content today with a fresh Extra for this story. Now, this Extra has grown in scope quite a bit since I started sketching it out this spring, to the point that much like the one that I made for Context Switch last year, it’s turned into a two-part feature. The first part of it will be going live today, on the 10th anniversary of the submission date of the contest version of this story that started it all. As for the second… it’ll go up when my time and motivation align to finish polishing it up from its 95% complete draft state and get it beta-read sometime in the upcoming calendar month… or on September 18th if all else fails for getting something out the door in August. Since hey, there are worse dates to be had for concluding an Unova-centered narrative.
Unlike the last Extra, today’s and its second part are set chronologically after the events of the main story. As such, if you’re coming into this story blind, it’s strongly recommended to read this two-parter after reading everything else in the story published prior to it.
Though that’s enough preambling on my part, let’s get into the real reason you’ve been following along thus far:
Hey there, it’s been a while since we last met to trade stories. Life has admittedly been a bit busier for me lately. Standing guard over younglings of various species has a way of keeping one’s claws full, like the way it did the last time I came around these parts.
What’s the story behind that you ask? Well, I suppose I have some time to tell the tale, even if it’s quite different from the ones I’ve told you about that little house on the outskirts of Icirrus City. And, well…
I admittedly haven’t told many others this story since I wasn’t sure whether or not they’d think I was making parts of it up. But if you’re willing to hear me out, I suppose I can humor your curiosity.
Now, the first time that I came out to these forests with both the Does and my children was just last summer. There were a few new faces that accompanied us then, including the Verne children from the family just next door: Carol and her younger brother—’Noel’. His name always had a way of slipping from the tip of my tongue, though I suppose I’ve been saying it a lot more ever since he started training my elder child.
“Gon! Gon!”
I don’t have too much to say about that visit I didn’t already tell you about; a scare in the woods aside, it went by fairly smoothly and sparked a sense of curiosity among the youngsters about Dragonspiral Tower—among both the humans and Pokémon alike. I helped lead a couple trips over with bits and pieces of the group afterwards during the seasons when James took a seasonal break from training my younger child to go off to his “college”. Time and time again, it got my children, and their trainers more eager to get a closer look at the tower in the woods. To venture inside the divine roost that has loomed over the forests and moors around Icirrus City for untold ages.
Those curiosities faded a bit with winter’s chill, since I wasn’t particularly in the mood to guide anyone out in that weather. And my children and many of their companions weren’t in the mood to travel through it, either. But when spring and its warmth came again, their curiosity came back and it proved hard to keep it at bay for long. Especially when their older and more experienced companions were there to “keep them safe”, as they’d insisted to me and my mate.
And so it was that early this spring, when the air was crisp and the grass still damp from overnight showers—right around the time that human schools have their “spring breaks”—we made the journey northward once again and retraced our steps to the approach to Dragonspiral Tower.
There’s a spot on the path to the tower coming from the south through the surrounding forests. One where the earth begins to slope down in the surrounding forests towards the moat right as the ancient pillars in the water come into view. It’s a vantage point that even the Pokémon that live in the area come to visit, since one can see the whole of the tower and its surrounding grounds from there. It’s the sort of place where one can pass an entire day just watching the Pokémon that dwell inside the tower move through its gaps or in the moat around it.
When my children and our humans made it to that place, they were hesitant to carry on. Not least of all because we had not come with the intention of merely gawking at the place from afar. Throughout history and even today, a journey into Dragonspiral Tower is not one to be made lightly. As I’m sure you already know, it is a place which had long ago been set aside for the gods.
Except our visit came a few years after Team Plasma arrived at the tower, and upended the balance of the resident Pokémon’s lives. James in particular was uneasy, as his mind turned to times in prior years when he was younger and had come face-to-face with Pokémon that dwelled these lands with tooth and claw flashed in warning. Including a particularly frightening encounter just after Team Plasma’s incursion that has always stuck out in our minds…
“... Will they really just let us go inside?”
It was a fair question on his part. From the times of folklore, even the grounds outside Dragonspiral Tower are places where one must tread carefully. Not least of all because they are inhabited by Pokémon who are taught from hatching by their elders of its importance, and of the necessity of protecting it from harm—even at the cost of one’s life.
As if to accentuate the point, the Doe children turned their heads at the sound of rustling brush, where a trio of Mienfoo keened eying them.The Fighting-types emerged from the brush and sized us up skeptically, before crossing the path and moving on with their patrols of the land. Much to everyone’s relief, it was a sign that the wounds left behind from Team Plasma’s sack of the tower had faded with time. Enough so that the local Pokémon had regained their trust of outsiders venturing in to come and pay reverence.
Well, that, and I suppose seeing a Pokémon like myself who was once of their ranks probably helped reassure them. The Mienfoo’s departure drew a sigh of relief from Noel, as he turned to his sister and his neighbors before speaking up.
“The Rangers said that the Pokémon have calmed down for a couple years now and they’d been able to go in and out of the tower fine,” he said. “Well, as fine as people used to go into it before the whole thing with Team Plasma happened, at least…”
John couldn’t help but frown in reply. Had I understood everything Noel said at the time, I’d probably have joined in myself. After all, even if entering Dragonspiral Tower is now a much easier than it used to be for would-be pilgrims, one doesn’t just walk into a space reserved for the divine…
“You do realize that these are the same Pokémon that get mad enough to fight over people nicking pebbles in the woods, right?” John asked. “Are we really sure that this is a good idea?”
... Especially spaces reserved for the divine that have little chunks of the ancient and the sacred dotted about it. One that the Pokémon that dwell about it jealously guard like their own treasures. I assume that you are familiar with the reason why yourself: it is because they understand it is a land which they dwell in as guardians and custodians and not as masters.
That realization weighed down on the Does and Vernes a bit as they began to have second thoughts, as did my mate—Carol’s Haxorus—who turned his tusked head off uneasily towards the tower in the distance. I shook my head in reply to their uneasy murmurs and pawed at Jane to try and give her and the others reassurance as our eyes met.
I reminded them that we had all wanted to come here and were excited to do so. That even if it was intimidating to tread in the realm of gods, that they had a faithful guardian who knew the lay of the land and had strong claws which were ready to defend them.
I’m sure that my words didn’t mean anything to her with the way that Pokémon’s tongues usually tend to go over humans’ heads, but even so, Jane seemed to get the point. A small smile came over her face, and she turned to her siblings and friends with newfound confidence.
“I’m sure it’ll work out. We do have an experienced guide, after all.”
She pat my back just above my wings and, with a grunt, I carried along the path. I made a point of staying at the head of our party: both to point things out for the others, and to prepare for when it came time to make our first steps inside. The trek down to the moat went smoothly enough, and before we knew it, we found ourselves at the final approach where its pillars lay.
That was when I stopped and went over to James and his bag. I stuck my claws into it, and rummaged around until I came across a few marbles which I pulled out in my grasp. A few of my fellow Pokémon in the group like Jane’s Marowak and James’ Servine gave blank looks, while others like John’s Scolipede wondered aloud to themselves how marbles of all things were supposed to help us.
I suppose that it’s one of those things that must make a bit more sense to the mind of a dragon, since even our humans were entirely befuddled.
“Huh? Neela? What are you doing with those marbles?”
Now, I can’t fault James for not being familiar with the premise of paying tribute to be granted passage, but it is a traditional rite for any who would enter into the sacred places in and around Dragonspiral Tower—for both human and Pokémon alike, especially if you’re planning on avoiding unwanted skirmishes. Often times, such tribute isn’t quite as gaudy as a glass marble, but the Pokémon that live there collect such tribute and hold onto a portion for themselves, and pass the rest on into the chambers of the rightful lord of their lands.
The intricacies have a bit of a lengthy explanation in with a shared tongue, so I’ll spare you the lecture and just say that I answered James’ question with a terse ‘Tribute’ in reply and beckoned him and his companions to follow.
After all, language barrier or not, the importance of the marbles I’d brought that day would become clear to them soon enough.
Now most pilgrims who enter Dragonspiral Tower itself these days come from between the pillars that lie just south of the tower in its moat. Among humans, few are in agreement as to what they were originally built for, and even the Pokémon that presently live there don’t remember their purpose in their tales. Some say they are the remnants of a roofed entrance. Others have proposed that they are the supports of a walkway that has since been lost to time. Still others say they never held up anything at all, and were built to reflect a sense of balance and unity, for a hazily-remembered era where the tower was built in honor of two dragons and not one.
Those pillars were among the most heavily-damaged parts of the tower when Team Plasma came and roused the dragon of legend that slumbered within. Even today, after the efforts of humans and their companions to right those wrongs, the scars left behind have not fully faded. Those who would look closely would realize there are cracks where the pillars broke during Team Plasma’s entrance. Seams where the pieces pulled from the moat were stitched back together with mortar and cement. Those who wouldn’t look that closely, will surely notice the hole punched into the tower’s wall not far above the moat’s surface, along with the metal catwalk that runs to it from the shore. Scars in ancient stone and brick that bear witness to the wounds that Team Plasma left behind, with the one in the wall being big enough for a couple larger Pokémon and their humans to walk through it side-by-side.
I sometimes wonder to myself if it would be for the best if the catwalk and the hole too, were erased. So that there wouldn’t be a constant reminder of the anguish and humiliations the Pokémon who stand guard over this place endured for the whole world to see. But I suppose as a Pokémon who isn’t actively standing guard there myself, it is not for me to say, and most others that I come across who dwell in and among the tower tell me that they would rather see it stay.
Some insist that the hole in the wall and the bridge remind them of the importance of not being caught unawares in the future by villainous schemes against the place they call home. Others defend it in more practical terms: that while unsightly, the bridge makes travel across the moat significantly easier for the Pokémon that dwell inside.
And among the local Druddigon in particular, it’s apparently grown popular as a perch for sunning and fishing in warmer months.
Naturally, we even met some Pokémon using it to those ends: a pair of Druddigon we came across standing guard over the entrance that day. One laid sprawled out on her belly with her wings outstretched to bask in the sun’s warmth, while her partner keenly eyed a Basculin fin poking about in the water just below, poised and waiting for just the right moment to strike.
“Drud! Drud!”
Or at least, he was until my younger child hailed him with a playful cry. The fisher lost his balance and pitched forward head over heels into the moat with a wince-worthy splash. One thing led to another, as a plume of water fell onto the sunbather’s crest, startling her awake as she crouched defensively and flashed her fangs with an irritated snarl.
“Gon! Druddigon!”
Now while there are some who might scoff at Druddigon as being a lesser dragon compared to the likes of mighty Haxorus or Hydreigon, but such sentiments have a way of quickly vanishing when facing down one that’s itching for battle. With bulk and mass when fully grown that make most humans look downright petite, sharp claws, and a mouthful of piercing fangs, a Druddigon’s battle-cry will send a chill down the spine of most would-be foes. And even with strong defenders who stepped to their fore, the Does and Vernes and their younger Pokémon couldn’t help but shrink back from the wild Druddigon’s approach.
“Haxorus!”
But of course, there are other Pokémon who are ready to match their ferocity, including Carol’s Haxorus. He stepped forward, flashing his tusks and crouching before his children to defend them with a stiff Dual Chop, loudly declaring that he would not tolerate the wild Druddigon threatening his children and companions. And that he would gladly put her in her place.
I have no doubt my mate would’ve tried to make good on those threats, with or without his human’s guidance or the presence of allies like John’s Scolipede or Jane’s Marowak at his back. Unfortunately for him, it was not merely the sunbather that he would’ve had to fight his way past.
“Gon!”
I sharply tugged at my mate and motioned down the catwalk with my claw towards a sight that made his freeze. The fisher was crawling back onto the catwalk just then, and was in a similarly ornery mood, he clapped and let out a roaring call. A second Druddigon wouldn’t be enough to normally give the Haxorus pause, but the view at the bridge’s end made his eyes widen and the color drain from his face.
There, at the hole punched into the wall, were at least a dozen pairs of eyes peering out. Some belonging to Druddigon, others to Mienfoo and Golett, with one set up high enough off the ground to belong to a Pokémon far stronger than the guardians which more commonly prowl the brush outside. The Does’ Pokémon began to backpedal towards their trainers to shield them, and as the wild Druddigon on the bridge prowled forward, my mate found himself frozen in place with a startled stammer.
“X-Xor…”
Whatever the local defenders might have lacked against us in individual might, they more than made up for it in numbers. As the sunbather pointedly reminded, none of them were willing to let themselves be pushed over without a fight. Naturally, they all had the stubbornness and determination that one would expect for Pokémon entrusted with being the custodians of a sacred place.
Fortunately, there are other ways of convincing such guardians to grant one passage. And even when dwelling in the shadow of the gods, the local Druddigon too are still subject to a dragon’s yearnings and delights.
“Drudd…”
Which was where those marbles I’d brought along came in handy.
“Gon! Gon Drud!”
I bowed forward and dropped onto all fours briefly, a traditional invitation among our kind to share the sun’s warmth together and the way we traditionally telegraph our amity to each other. It’s a gesture that humans apparently consider to be laying things on thick among their own kind…
“Gon!”
But it was enough to make the pair of wild dragons waver and dispel some of their frustrations. A quick pop back onto my feet and a flash of the marbles in my claw were enough to make them stand down, even if it earned me a fair share of befuddled stares from my companions, human and Pokémon alike.
It was just the opening I needed, to explain that personal embarrassments and flaring tempers aside, that we merely wished to come and pay reverence in a sacred place. That the little treasures in my claw were an offering to be passed along to them, their peers, and to the land’s master in return for safe passage. That even if my companions were strangers to this place, that they wouldn’t bring any harm to them or their abode.
Especially not while I, one who had grown up in their ranks, was there to keep a watchful eye over them.
That was enough to sway the two… well, after I threw in a couple extra marbles for good measure. The figures at the hole in the wall drifted off, while back on the bridge, the wild Druddigon both scooted aside out of our path. The sunbather lazily settled in and rested atop a few of the marbles I offered up, while the fisher went down a ways and laid in wait for the Basculin to come back towards the surface, leaving the left side of the bridge clear for us to pass.
Both the Does or Vernes traded blank stares at the sight. I guess they were a bit surprised that the same trick that they used to calm me and my mate when we were all younger would also work here in the wild. Though with humans and Pokémon growing up together and learning to communicate, it probably should have been easier for them to understand naturally.
“Druddigon!”
A quick walk past the two wilds and a turn back with a wave of my claw to urge them forward did the trick. I tried to throw in an explanation as well, but… with our difference in tongues, it took until the hatchlings began to come over themselves for things to click.
“I… think Neela’s saying that it’s safe to go on ahead?” Noel asked.
“Druddigon! Druddigon!”
The hatchlings eagerly cheered and pointed off at fins in the water, their racket startling them away in front of the fisher’s eyes. The sunbather turned back with a sour frown, as her fisher companion lying along the bridge turned his head up with a low growl:
One sternly reminding us that we’d requested passage into Dragonspiral Tower, and not to hover over their shoulders and spectate their lives.
My mate quickly came after them and hurried our children along, as the other Pokémon present started to nudge their trainers forward. It was then that Jane put two and two together, as she followed after us, turning towards the others as the interior of the tower started to come into sight.
“I think we should be fine, just watch your step inside,” she insisted. “We wouldn’t want to wear out our welcome here.”
Now, Dragonspiral Tower is a place that has seen its share of wear and tear through the ages, with the Pokémon that live there focusing on guarding their surroundings as they remembered being born into them. Much to their chagrin, some of that is simply because there is only so much knowledge for how to fix the things that eventually break there. Eventually, the efforts by the Pokémon to pass stories and knowledge down about how different parts of the tower and its grounds are meant to be, falls behind pace with the repairs that went forgotten or else never started.
Unfortunately, after thousands of years, this means that despite the effort to return and preserve the tower’s treasures, newer generations grow up remembering things in a broken state that has always been. It’s a state of affairs which sometimes is a source of angst for its inhabitants. This knowledge and effort lost to time leads to things like the large pool that greets everyone who enters the chamber that Team Plasma’s catwalk leads to. For as long anyone can remember, it has laid in the middle of crumbling floors and tilework, flooded by the moat outside leaking in through holes in the tower’s stonework.
Not even the eldest of Golurk from the tower seem to remember how that chamber originally looked like, much less whether or not it originally had a pool in it at all.
“Whoa! This place is gigantic!”
Though for Noel and his companions that day, those worries about whether all was as it ought to be in the tower were far from mind. Even in their dilapidated state, the circular and triangular sigils of the ancient floors’ tilework and the friezes on the walls continue to instill awe and inspiration into those who come to Dragonspiral Tower—both humans and Pokémon. My children were hardly an exception, as upon seeing the ancient space around them, they couldn’t help but reach out and paw at the ancient stones and tiles until I gave a gentle but firm nudge and tugged their claws away.
A glance further across the pool at one of the local Druddigon keenly watching us helped remind them why I intervened. After all, the Pokémon who dwell in these parts inspire awe in those that come to visit, too. And they instill respect in those who come to their home with ill intent through fierce guardianship, by tooth and claw if they deem it necessary. The Golett and Golurk descended from the ones said that helped the ancients lay the bricks and mortar are counted among their number to this day. The dragons that dwell here are among them too, and have stood guard over these grounds since the folkloric days where it was said to have been a shrine for both Truth and Ideals—days which I’ve been told are still are reflected in the names that humans from some faraway lands give this place. And of course, there are the Mienfoo and Mienshao, who are said to be the relative newcomers amongst Dragonspiral Tower’s guardians, and yet stand firm all the same, facing even the bitterest colds each winter without flinching.
There have been many stories behind how those guardians came to dwell in and around Dragonspiral Tower, stories of how this or that hero amongst their ranks won the favor and trust of some mixture of the ancients and the gods. But those are stories for another day, and they weren’t particularly on the mind of my children and my companions that day. Not while they remained fixed in rapt attention just from the ancient craftsmanship all around them. Even the elder humans like Jane weren’t immune, as she took a moment to peer off at the chamber’s high ceiling above.
“It’s hard to believe that before everything with Team Plasma happened, the only ways into this place were either through the roof, or a few tunnels that an Excadrill would find cramped,” she murmured.
Not that any of the residents would’ve complained about it, mind you. Which is why beyond such tunnels, the chamber where the catwalk opens into has remained cut off from the rest of the first floor to this day. For Druddigon, those tight passages aren’t far removed from what they might crouch and prowl through in the mountains and caves they more typically live in order to lie in wait while hunting. The other Pokémon that dwell in the tower who have to go through them are either short in stature like the Golett, or are capable of easily passing through while similarly crouched like the Mienfoo… except the likes of the occasional Golurk, I suppose, but they’ve always had their own ways of getting in and out.
Even if it weren’t as trifling an inconvenience, I’m not sure if any of Dragonspiral Tower’s Pokémon would have the heart to change things. After all, their local hatchlings are raised from young ages to lead simple lives watching over the places they call home when they aren’t living much like their counterparts in other parts of Unova: interfering with the sacred reminders they dwell in and among as little as possible.
It is because they understand that they live in a place that’s not truly theirs. Especially not now.
The wild Pokémon that day kept a watchful eye on us, but otherwise beyond a wary glance here or there, were content to let us pass by freely. Word had already passed among their ranks from the bridge to expect visiting pilgrims, and so long as no harm was done to the shrine or its inhabitants, there was no reason for them to step in.
Or at least that was the case until we happened to pass a Golett tending to some worn friezes by a small ramp of dislodged tiles and brickwork. Had I come on my own with the Does and Vernes, or even just with my elder peers such as my mate, or John’s Scolipede, or Jane’s Marowak, it probably would’ve been a moment that just blended in with the rest of our visit…
“Gon! Gon!”
Except we came along with my children that day, who while a bit grown, were still about as young in mind as the Doe children were when our story together first began. The sorts of children that no matter their species, seem to have a unique talent of complicating otherwise simple matters in life. As it happened, the hatchlings had brought a few baubles of their own from their hoards. Marbles that they’d taken a shine to rolling around much like their father did when he was younger.
And when the two spotted a ramp that was conveniently about their height, they of course were filled with the urge to roll something down it.
“Druddigon!”
At once, their curiosity and gravity took over, as they hurried over with marbles in claw while I and the others were distracted. They set their marbles down in pairs, making a crude race against each other as they rolled and clacked against each other and against ancient walls and floors much to their squealing delight. Were it done in Opelucid City’s own ancient places during the likes of its summer festival of dragons, or even in the presence of friends at their homes, perhaps it would’ve found a cheering onlooker eager to share in their fun and games…
“Lett!”
But this was a shrine to the gods and not a den or a marketplace. The Golett whirled around after hearing the clatter and let out a grinding hiss. How their kind does it, I’ve never fully known, but the sound of an angered Golett grates the ears much like claws dragging against slate. The Ghost-type raised one of its arms into the air, and made itself look larger while letting out loud hisses to make its displeasure clear. An experience that even many larger Pokémon would find startling, and one which made my children hurriedly jump back with startled yelps.
It was one of those moments where children reflexively seek the protection of their parents, and in a flash, without our humans’ guidance, my mate and I stepped forward to defend them. After all, some things don’t require prompting to know when to step in…
“Haxorus!”
Even if sometimes Pokémon like us might misjudge how to best go about it. My mate as a Haxorus has always been a fierce defender of the treasures in his life, whether his baubles, his companions, or his family. Perhaps some of that comes from a yearning to put his younger, more timorous days behind him, and perhaps some of that was simply a dragon’s protective impulses at play.
“Mienfoo!”
Either way, it didn’t particularly endear him to the nearby locals. The Golett became the Golett and three Mienfoo. And then it became those four and a pair of Druddigon. All around, various figures started to converge on us from elsewhere in the chamber and from low tunnels with sharp growls, every one of them ready for battle.
“H-Hax…?”
I suppose that even as someone with ties to this place, I can’t fault even my mate for being caught off guard by the experience. And after seeing that he and his trainer were surrounded, he grew unnerved enough to shrink behind me alongside our hatchlings. His human and the others drew in close to one another as their Pokémon stood before them, casting worried glances at the upset wilds that prowled towards us.
“Oh boy, you really put your foot in it this time, Chopper,” Carol murmured.
“Well this visit’s going great already,” John sighed. “I don’t suppose giving them more marbles will get them off our back?”
It couldn’t have hurt, but with the way their Pokémon braced themselves and sternly warned the approaching locals that they’d fight tooth and nail to defend their companions… it’d likely have sent mixed messages at best. In impasses such as those with wild Pokémon, nerves and patience to explain how one doesn’t mean any harm often go much further than brute strength towards resolving such incidents. Especially if you’re intending to pass through their territory again in the future on good terms.
“Drud! Drud!”
Having a common tongue and background with the wilds one is attempting to soothe in such a fashion certainly doesn’t hurt either. After a swift swipe to palm my hatchlings’ marbles, I held them aloft and tried to explain matters to the gathered crowd. That the two were still young enough that they didn’t fully understand the importance of this place. That with a pair of keen eyes and steady claws, they could be taught and kept behaved long enough to learn.
There was a moment of quiet before the Pokémon, both wild and trained alike began to let their guards down. The tower’s inhabitants began to drift off, and even the Golett turned back to its friezes, but not without turning and speaking a stern warning to us in its tongue:
That there were times and places for fun and games, but that in a sacred place like this, we should not assume they would be the same as in the dens they dwelt in. That this tower was held places which other Pokémon called home and that causing disorder wouldn’t endear ourselves to them. And most importantly, that it was not their displeasure as guardians in particular that we should be most afraid of incurring during our visit.
It was one of those warnings which was best affirmed before hurrying past the speaker. Something we and our companions were all too eager to do. After slipping past the Golett, we started to approach the bottom of a set of stairs, where my mate pulled his children in close and cooed reassurances to them that things were alright, all as our humans caught up and took stock of the ordeal they’d been through.
A moment where all was well that ended well, except for one important sticking point:
“Druddigon…”
I gave a stern growl and looked down at my children, passing along a pointed reminder in our tongue. That we were in a place where every step we took was on sacred ground. That every brick, every flake of ancient paint, was to be treated with the same respect as the relics they passed while traveling through the woods. That the locals had been quite gracious to us in the encounter we’d just had when there were tales from when I was growing up of others who were summarily chased off entirely for doing less.
The hatchlings let out low grunts in reply, of grudging agreements that a child would give when one knows one has to regardless of whether or not it’s wanted. James and his companions traded uneasy glances in the background as my children answered me. I don’t know how much of my explanation they understood, but somehow James must’ve gotten the idea that I didn’t want my children going along with us…
“... Maybe it’d be for the best if Rufus and Rudd sat this one out,” James sighed. “It sure seems like it’s easy to rile up the Pokémon here.”
“Drud!”
Which was not at all the point I was trying to make. I threw out an arm to catch his arm and even threw in one of those human head shakes to correct him as I tried to explain the matter again. That this was a special place, and just being here and walking the tower’s halls was an honor for everyone, young and old. Seeing Dragonspiral Tower’s majesty as faded images through a simulated sky that one’s claws could never reach was like seeing one of their human photographs of this place, or the moving pictures on their ‘televisions’. One didn’t come in person to Dragonspiral Tower just to see it like that.
I doubt that the humans understood most of it, but in the end, most Pokémon and humans live their lives together passing things along to each other in broad strokes. James traded a glance between me, and my mate and children, before pulling the Pokéball back as Jane came over and looked down at me with a sigh.
“... Alright, but if Rufus and Rudd get us into trouble again, we’re going to stick with traveling around here with Pokémon we know the wild Pokémon here won’t get upset with,” Jane warned. “Understood?”
I relayed things as best as I could to my children, who eagerly insisted they wouldn’t cause any trouble. Perhaps I should’ve known better than to assume that that’d truly be the end of things, but it’d have been a short story had we turned back there.
No, that was the point where we continued on deeper into the tower, and climbed up onto the second floor where the more memorable parts of our visit truly began.
Now, it should be emphasized that while its original creators are long-gone and remembered mostly through folklore and its condition is commonly considered to be ruined, that there is very much life in and around Dragonspiral Tower. Its lower levels are taken up by descendants of the Pokémon that the ancients and gods tasked with guarding their shrine. As such, much of it also serves as places for those Pokémon to rest, to rear their young, and to live out their everyday lives.
And of course, they also are places where those same Pokémon heed that spark inside them that draws them to battle with others. Which as Pokémon that understand themselves to be guardians of their territory, leads to a strong appetite for chances to display their strength before their peers… if a bit more carefully than they might in the surrounding forests.
“Mienfoo!”
We happened to come across such a battle that day in a more open portion of Dragonspiral Tower’s second floor. One between a local Mienfoo and one of the local Druddigon. The pair squared off with each other, trading skirmishing blows as a small gathering of local wilds looked on from the sidelines from between ruined stone pillars, which the Does and Vernes and the rest of us similarly observed from a distance.
One would be forgiven for thinking that a Mienfoo would be the type to reflexively cringe and scurry away from a challenge by a larger and more imposing foe like a dragon, but as with many Pokémon, looks can be deceiving. Those weasels have always been surprisingly bold and determined opponents, and even in habitats far removed from Dragonspiral Tower, they are said to have a talent as hunters for taking prey larger than themselves.
Perhaps that was why they were among the Pokémon the ancients entrusted to watch over the tower. After all, as Pokémon raised from their youth to defend a sacred place, part of growing into being a faithful guardian is simply learning to lose the fear of bigger or stronger foes. A valor that the Mienfoo put on full display with a flurry of punches and kicks as he bobbed and weaved about his Druddigon foe.
“Gon!”
But size and strength mattered that day, and with a swipe of a claw trailing dragonfire, the Druddigon caught the Mienfoo in his stomach and sprawled him out. The Mienfoo rolled to a stop as the Druddigon lunged and pounced on his foe, pinning the Mienfoo to the ground under his claws and bringing his fangs down to his opponent’s neck.
The hatchlings watched intently as the wild Mienfoo pinned his ears back and squeaked in his tongue. That he conceded his foe had him at his mercy and yielded. The Druddigon lingered briefly, before letting the Mienfoo clamber onto his feet and dart off for the surrounding audience with his tail tucked between his legs in defeat.
A few of the onlookers expressed disappointment or condolences for the vanquished Fighting-type, while others broke out into cheers for the victor. My own children, delighted to see one of their distant kin emerge victorious, joined in the cheers with little growls of approval of their own. It’s one of those things that sometimes unsettles visitors unfamiliar with the locals’ ways, even if it’s not far removed in spirit from a battle between trainers. But without the benefit of understanding us, humans have to put try and piece together our motivations and the meaning of such battles on their own…
“Oh, thank goodness,” Carol said. “For a moment, I thought that that Druddigon was going to finish that Mienfoo off right in front of us.”
“Nah, it’s just a bit of competition between them,” James insisted. “If they didn’t get along, you wouldn’t see them all cooped up together side-by-side in the tower like this.”
Well, around Dragonspiral Tower, anyways. In other places, that wild Mienfoo probably really would have been lunch after being bested by a Druddigon in battle. But as a fellow guardian, the Druddigon did not heed his instincts as a hunter that day—not that his fellows would’ve suffered him well if he had. After all, the Mienfoo and his kind around Dragonspiral Tower help shoulder the burden of protecting its relics, especially during the bitter colds of winter. And as such, that alliance and camaraderie outweighed any other more primal considerations.
For the longest time, I thought that that was a practice which was particular to the Pokémon that live about Dragonspiral Tower. I’ve since heard others say that Pokémon in other places sometimes ally in such a fashion. In places where normal considerations of predator and prey are ignored among Pokémon who share a territory and a common cause…
“Drud! Gon!”
Not that it necessarily keeps such Pokémon humble. The wild Druddigon was flush with victory and spread his wings, throwing his head back with a triumphant roar: proudly announcing his strength to all those watching and challenging anyone present to come and test it.
“Heh, someone’s having a good time,” John chuckled. “Reminds me of when Neela and my Pokémon finally got past Brycen’s Gym.”
“Druddigon! Druddigon!”
The kids were ecstatic over the battle’s turn, my younger child cheering on the wild Druddigon for his well-fought victory while my elder one wondered aloud to himself if those Gym Battles I’d told stories about were like this too.
… Perhaps he wondered that to himself a bit too loudly, since the wild Druddigon perked up at the mention of those past battles and our eyes met. One thing led to another, and…
“Drud! Druddigon!”
He sauntered forward, head raised and wings fanned out in challenge with a throaty growl. Proudly declaring to his peers that he had strength enough to best any “human’s pet” who was bold enough to battle him.
For a Pokémon, when such boasts come from a peer, they might prompt a dismissive reply, or spark a competitive urge to prove them wrong. But when such boasts come from a dragon... they have a way of unnerving creatures who can’t match their strength. Especially for younger humans much like Noel who was still in grade school at the time, and nervously reached for a Pokéball around his waist.
“Um, Carol?” Noel asked. “The Pokémon here compete with each other, right?”
And they do, but they also seek battles with foes from afar. Humans and their companions are often popular for wild Pokémon to challenge in general, especially since battles with them are seen as being relatively safe. Humans and their companions are usually quick to yield and flee when bested, and typically allow one to slink off when defeated. Granted, when doing so, a Pokémon telegraphs an openness to being around human companionship. It’s part of some unspoken contract that governs how we challenge each other. One that humans and Pokémon alike—even from lands far, far away from Unova—have stories of all sorts about how it first came to be…
But I can’t imagine that there’d be too many humans that the wild Druddigon that challenged me wouldn’t have worn his welcome out with. Especially with his attitude. And with the way he was unnerving my children to the point that they were huddling behind me, I spread my wings back in challenge and answered back with a growl of my own.
“Gon! Druddigon!”
I told him that I had no interest in sparring, and that any fight between us would be a fight with a mother defending her children. Unfortunately, like humans, Pokémon can also be pushy about picking battles sometimes. The wild Druddigon gave a dismissive snort back, and flashed his claws and fangs in challenge.
“Chopper! Hit him with a Dragon Tail!”
The challenging Druddigon briefly turned his head at Carol’s cry, when a flash of yellow and gray scales dove in. The wild Druddigon turned too late, just in time for a square blow from a tail cloaked in dragonfire to strike the side of his head. The Dragon Tail launched the wild Druddigon back with a yelp, where he landed at the feet of a few onlooking guardians with an unceremonious thud. The gathered wilds all went dead silent as the Druddigon laid there for a moment, righting himself in a daze when he glanced up and saw piercing black and red eyes from a Haxorus reared up and flashing his tusks, ready for battle.
“Haxorus!”
The wild Druddigon froze briefly, before turning away with his wings pinned back to make himself look smaller, his own tail all but tucked between his legs as he hurriedly slunk off. A few of the onlooking wilds audibly thought twice about making challenges of their own, while others snickered at the drake’s humbling. Even my children couldn’t help but giggle at how silly it was for him to boast so loudly only to then turn tail in retreat.
Good riddance, really. And I said about as much as I watched my would-be challenger scurry off. Things calmed quickly after that as the other wilds began to drift away, and eager to soothe her companions, Jane stepped up and pat at my crest, looking off at Noel to try and reassure him that all was well.
“As long as we don’t get too many wilds riled up at once, I think that we’ll manage,” Jane reassured Noel. “Just stick close with our tougher Pokémon and don’t wander off.”
It was solid advice from her, really. Even if we quickly discovered that heeding it would be harder than we thought when there were young children in the mix.
Now, one might ask how on earth a parent would lose track of one’s own children, and I suppose even I’m still a bit embarrassed about how it all happened. But much like it is with other Pokémon, or even with humans, one of the quickest ways to lose track of one’s young is to simply spend time passing through crowds.
And as a place prized by those that dwell in and around it, the dens of the Pokémon that stand guard over Dragonspiral Tower have always been on the more crowded side. And when we chanced to come across a few of them shortly after our encounter with the sparring locals, we came across those fated crowds ourselves.
“Whoa! Look at all the little Druddigon!”
Ones that had an awful lot of little faces that looked much like my children’s at a passing glance. Especially when they were all huddled up together a dozen strong and clambering over each other with curious calls and eyes glancing up, all under the watchful gaze of an elder Druddigon who kept a jealous watch on us, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.
Fortunately, the Does and their companions knew better from years of experience training Pokémon than to go poking and prodding at them as they pleased, especially at ones they didn’t share a bond with as companions. Even so, something about the sight struck the Vernes, and Carol in particular as being strange.
“Are… they creching?” she asked. “I didn’t know that Druddigon did that.”
“Huh? Did the Druddigon you saw around Opelucid not gather their young together?” Jane asked, giving a puzzled cock of her head. “Since the ones here around town have done it for as long as anyone remembers.”
Perhaps my own frame of reference has been skewed a bit by humans who do much the same with their own young in their ‘day cares’, but I have to remind myself sometimes that the Druddigon that dwell in and around Dragonspiral Tower behave in ways that seem strange to outsiders. I’ve heard tales of Pokémon from faraway regions that act in ways that outsiders similarly find peculiar... like those calm-blooded Tauros that are said to hail from a faraway island region.
While I never considered the ways of my home to be unusual, the behaviors of Dragonspiral Tower’s dragons apparently strike other dragons from Unova as being strange. Even to those that hail from a mere day’s journey away.
Perhaps some of that is just a matter of being closer to each other—in a matter of speaking. Since Dragonspiral Tower is a more crowded territory than those of most other dragons in this world, and Druddigon fare better together in greater, closer groups than most of their peers. It is custom among the ones that live in and around the ruins to choose guardians from those peers to trust with watching over their younglings. Watchful eyes and strong claws who keep those young dragons safe in their parents’ absence.
“Gon! Druddigon!”
As it so happened, a second creche happened to be passing by on their feet at the time, led by a younger guardian who seemed a bit nervous and fraught. She spent her time constantly darting here and there about her charges trying to hem in stragglers and would-be strays, and seemed to have trouble commanding the respect of her peers who looked on from the side with low, disapproving growls. I never picked up the full story behind why, but from their reactions, my guess is that she was inexperienced and of their lower ranks. One who had yet to earn the respect of her counterparts. Even her own charges seemed to be a bit reluctant to be under her care, with one pair of youngsters in particular pinning their wings back and constantly glancing about for openings to sneak away.
“Druddigon! Druddigon!”
None of which occurred to my children, who upon seeing a crowd of young Druddigon like themselves, darted ahead into their midst with cheerful cries of greeting. The wild younglings were similarly taken by surprise, as they began to crowd around and paw and nose curiously, since for most of them, this was the first time they’d seen a Druddigon from outside of their own age and size.
Blue started to blur into blue hides and red into red heads and spikes, when Noel hastily threw a hand in and tugged my elder child back with a sharp scold.
“Rufus, don’t wander off like that!” he exclaimed. “This place is really easy to get lost in!”
James’ Servine called out for his teammate, who in turn grudgingly started to drift away from his wild peers himself as disappointed whines rang out. I headed over, eager to hurry my child along, when all of a sudden, a sharp cry pricked the air and turned our heads down the corridor in the direction that the inexperienced Druddigon’s creche came from.
“Shao!”
There, sauntering forward, was a Mienshao standing tall and proud—a bit moreso than I expected, with a gait that seemed unusually human-like for his kind. For a brief moment from appearances, I thought I was seeing my mentor from the Does’ household who’d somehow caught up with us by surprise, only for the large cohort of Mienfoo following along to remind me otherwise. He was one of Dragonspiral Tower’s more elite defenders, one among a small number of creatures that only rarely attain such strength in the wilds, after many years of life.
My understanding is that such elite guardians now appear before humans inside the tower much more commonly than they did in the years prior to Team Plasma’s arrival at Dragonspiral’s Tower. Perhaps as a reminder that they and their comrades won’t be run roughshod over a second time. But neither the Does nor the Vernes knew anything about that during our visit, and so for them, the sighting was a rare treat.
“Whoa, I didn’t know that there were wild Mienshao that just popped up like this!” John murmured. “I thought they usually stayed away from humans!”
The Mienshao and his cohort marched along, with the Druddigon creche joining in and intermixing with their ranks. All the while, their younger faces would steal glances at us and our companions as they passed, before at the very end, as the throng of Pokémon thinned out, I quickly noticed that something was amiss.
“Drud?”
Namely that my children were no longer there with us. I turned my head about, stealing glances around the chamber only to find neither nor scale of my children.
“Hey, John? Did you see where Rufus got off to?”
James and Noel were the first of our humans to notice, as they started to scan their surroundings with their Pokémon. Some like Jane’s Marowak raised their voice to ask the surrounding wilds. There were still a few younger Druddigon lingering about, but again and again, none of them were my children. Even checking the ranks of the creche still huddled together further behind us turned up nothing. My breaths started to come short and tense with anxiety, when I turned back towards the direction where the Mienshao and the others had left—just in time to spot the blue-and-red tails of a pair of youngsters scampering away further down the hall.
“Druddigon!”
I dropped to all fours and darted over, coming across a pair of young Druddigon and all but snatching the pair up. They yelped at my grasp, and caught up in a wave of relief, I gave a scolding growl at them to not wander off and scare me like that. The pair turned and kept their heads down with growling whines, and I didn’t suspect that anything was wrong as the others caught up…
“There you are, Rufus. I was wondering where you’d gone off to.”
Noel was the first to arrive, followed by his sister and my mate. The Haxorus breathed a sigh of relief and made his way forward with claw outstretched to pat at his children’s crests, as he’d done many a time since they’d hatched.
“Drud… D-Drud…”
Except, as the youngsters turned to face him, something about the pair’s faces didn’t seem right. And stranger still, they were shrinking back with low whimpers and whines, looking up wide-eyed at the Haxorus’ tusks. My mate and I were both taken aback at their sudden change in demeanors when their nerves abruptly failed.
“DRUDDIGON! DRUDDIGON!”
Before I could ask what was going on, the pair let out frightened squeals and fled, a number of local Mienfoo and Golett hurrying out from their places along the wall from further ahead and cutting us off with piercing glares. Everything went by in a confused daze for a moment, when James decided that things had gone on for long enough, and hurriedly took a Pokéball in his hand before aiming it at the smaller of the young Druddigon.
“Yeesh! It’s just one thing after another with you two today!” James cried. “Come on, Rudd. It’s time to take a break.”
James tapped the center of the ball, and as expected, a red light shot out, arcing its way towards the young Druddigon… except it cut out and faded halfway over. A few alarmed cries went out among the wild Pokémon, with a Golett stepping in front of the pair to shelter them while others took a few paces forward, limbs raised for battle.
My mate and I stood our ground as our humans took cover behind us, but amidst the confusion, James kept stealing blank glances down at his failed Pokéball with a startled grimace.
“I-I don’t get it, why isn’t my Pokéball working on Rudd?”
From behind my mate, Noel warily stole glances past the wilds and their united front, before he chanced to spot the younger of the little Druddigon poking his head out and raised his own Pokéball before tapping the center. Once again, the light came out halfway, before it too cut out and vanished with no effect.
“Ack! Mine’s not taking Rufus back either!” Noel cried. “What on earth is going on?!”
“Mienfoo!”
Well… no effect aside from making the locals even more riled up at us, as this time, the ones staring us down were cut off by reinforcements from the rear, this time from the Druddigon who we’d passed watching over the creche down the corridor. Their elders had joined the fray, approaching with wings flashed out wide in warning. John and Jane’s Pokémon stepped to the head to stand guard but even so, something about the wilds’ words made us hesitate.
That those two younglings belonged here in this sacred place and were not ours to take.
“H-Hax?”
I opened my mouth to growl back in frustration, when I noticed the other creche guard was among the Druddigon who’d come to stop us, and brushed past us to pat at the younglings and calm them down. It was then that as I saw their faces peeking back out from hiding, my jaw dropped in shock.
Sure enough, even if they looked eerily similar, they weren’t my children. But those of another dragon whose story I don’t know.
As for where mine were… well…
That I only know from the benefit of hindsight and from other Pokémon’s words, so I can’t vouch for it being the truth to the same extent as the rest of my story. But to the best of my knowledge, while I and my companions were panicking over my children’s disappearance, they were off on an adventure of their own.
I suppose that if I’d known where my children were at the time, I’d have been a bit less worried. Since there are worse outcomes for one’s child wandering off in the wilds than stumbling into the care of friendly claws. But that was something that I learned about after the fact, and at the time, I reacted much as any mother would after her children went missing.
Though I’ll get to that after a short break, since I’ve already been going on for a bit longer than my average tale. And the places where things went from that point were quite a saga in themselves.
Hi there, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for too long, since I did still have that other part of my tale to tell. Though where exactly did I leave off again…?
Right, at the part where I, my mate, and my companions realized we’d mixed up my children with a pair of local youngsters. I don’t have too much to say about how we sorted out things with the local wilds afterwards other than that they were understanding. Mostly. They gave us an earful and after seeing that we didn’t mean any harm, left us to go our own way and tend to other matters that were weighing on our mind…
“Druddigon! Druddigon!”
Namely finding my children, which sent us going about the second tower of Dragonspiral Tower and leaving no stone unturned in our search. Doing so is a bit trickier in a place where every pebble and flake of paint is a sacred treasure, but even so, we passed what felt like a small eternity just looking around that ancient floor. Time has a way of flying by when one is stopping to crane one’s heads around every nook and cranny within reach, especially when there was no shortage of them to search around.
“Haxorus? Haxorus!”
My mate was by my side and searching, too. He would bring his tusked head high and low, peeking into dens and around ancient columns and walls for any sign of our children… and occasionally getting into an argument with one the local wilds in the process. Ones that I would then need to step in to sort out. Even our humans and our other companions joined in, as they followed our trails and checked the places we could not reach. Like us, they too went about calling out for our children as they walked through the ancient chambers, raising their voices in the hope that one of them might hear them.
“Rufus! Rudd! Where are you?!” James cried.
“Come on!” Noel added. “It’s not safe for you to sneak off like this!”
Though even between a dozen humans and Pokémon put together, Dragonspiral Tower is not exactly a small search area. Especially when you’re trying to search while staying together in order to avoid getting lost yourself. All the while, our procession started to attract a small train of local Pokémon. At first we drew the attention of wary guardians, then of curious onlookers. One of the latter was a male Druddigon who’s stuck in my mind in particular from how unfortunate our encounter was. I remember the way he approached me like it was yesterday, and how he nudged me as he passed before stepping back and fanning his wings out in full view.
“Gon… Drudd?”
Something must’ve gotten lost along the lines to his ears, as the first thing he told me after catching my attention was that he’d heard that my children had moved along… and that the spring was still young enough for there to still be time to bear new ones. Ones which would have a set of watchful claws to stand guard over them.
It was… a very forward offer, the sort that even if I didn’t already have a mate, I likely would’ve still answered it with the same piercing glare and growl that I did at the time.
“Haxorus!”
To say nothing about how angry my would-be suitor’s advances made my mate. My mate lunged ahead with a swing of his tusks at the interloper, just missing the wild Druddigon’s wings and sending him scurrying away with a startled yelp. The Haxorus snarled and was about to give chase after the wild, when Carol hurried in, tugging at her companion’s arm and pleading with him to settle down.
“Chopper, don’t go picking fights like that! You’ll rile these Pokémon-!”
“Lurk…”
Which I suppose was a matter which would’ve settled itself in short order, as before Carol could finish her words, the ground shook from the heavy footsteps of a Golurk approaching us. Worse still, the Ghost-type came flanked by a small mob of other wilds gathered at its sides, including my would-be suitor, who growled with wounded pride in the ranks of a good dozen of his peers.
It was just the sort of encounter that would make just about any creature freeze up like a startled Deerling, and our humans were no exception. The mood of our group grew tense and uneasy, as the color drained out of Carol’s face after realizing just how tight of a spot my mate’s temper had gotten us into.
“... Up.”
I suppose I can’t really blame my companions for their reaction. Staring down so many angered Pokémon, including a number of Druddigon flashing tooth and claw, is an experience that even a dragon would find intimidating. My mate, too, found himself swiftly regretting his earlier outburst, and hurriedly stepped in front of his trainer and braced himself for battle. He flashed his tusks back defiantly, but even so, he couldn’t hide a nervous grimace from his face. In the face of such opposition, he was no longer certain his strength would be enough to protect his trainer or his other companions.
“Druddigon!”
Fortunately, words sometimes have a way of accomplishing what even a dragon’s might can’t. I stepped out before the encroaching wilds and turned my snout up to bear my throat, to show them that I meant no harm. Perhaps I laid it on a bit thick and was a bit more supplicative than I’d normally like, but the appeal did its job: it showed them that we didn’t wish to fight and wanted to make amends.
The surrounding wilds hesitated briefly, before I bowed and dropped to all fours, raising my voice to try and explain ourselves. I told them that we were sorry for any trouble that we’d caused as guests to their home, but that I was at my wits’ end as a mother separated from her children. That as their mother, that I just couldn’t bear to leave them behind in a place where they were strangers all on their own.
“Golurk.”
The Golurk motioned for a pause as the surrounding wilds traded glances with each other, some giving dismissive scoffs about our plight, others murmuring in understanding. For me and my companions, it gave much-needed reassurance that we weren’t about to face down a wall of scale and fang. But the words of Pokémon like us have a way of being lost on human ears. That occasion was no exception, as James failed to make sense of our words, and gave a dumbfounded look down to his Servine after the Grass-type tugged at him and motioned ahead.
“Huh? What’s going on?”
The Pokémon around the Golurk parted ways, as a Mienfoo and a Golett from their ranks marched towards us. They came along, pushing a pair of squirming bundles of blue and red scales forward—the lookalike youngsters we’d run into earlier.
The two pinned their wings against their bodies with shy glimpses up and shrank away from the larger Pokémon in our group. Jane blinked in response, before turning to the Golurk with a puzzled frown.
“Er… they’re cute, but these two aren’t our Pokémon,” she said. “Our Pokéballs wouldn’t work on them even if we wanted them to.”
Jane pointed at a Pokéball to try and emphasize her point, only for the Golurk to ignore her and point off into the distance, towards a set of ancient stairs that went past the ceiling and onto the next floor. The ancient golem continued speaking in its eerie, almost grinding voice, explaining how my youngsters weren’t as alone as we’d feared. That their creche had been part of a procession that had representatives of all the tower’s guardians, and if we reunited these two youngsters with their creche on the floors above, that we’d surely get my children back.
It… admittedly took a few tries to successfully pass the instructions along to the Does and the Vernes, but after the Mienfoo and the Golett pointed the youngsters at each other and mimed an exchange of the hatchlings in front of us… the message sank in well enough for John to understand the point.
“So we just go up those stairs until we find that group from earlier, and then trade these two for our Druddigon?” he asked.
A nod from my companions and I as we’d learned to do long ago confirmed our humans’ wonderings. As such, it came time for the young doppelgangers to join us temporarily. They approached me meekly, peeking past my wings at the strange-looking Pokémon who were nearby me with my humans… especially the scary-looking Haxorus who was just by my side, and made the elder of the youngsters shrink back with a nervous whine.
“G-Gon?”
Their fears were assuaged soon enough by a scratch under the young dragonlet’s chin, first by me, then by my mate. The young Druddigon tilted his head up as the Haxorus eagerly reassured them that no matter our appearances, that none of us would bring them any harm. That until we returned them to their creche, we’d protect and care for them as if they were our own.
James’ Servine was the next to introduce himself to the pair with a wave of his leaves. Then came Jane’s Marowak and Sawsbuck—complete with an unfortunate remark by the younger of the two dragonlets about him looking ‘delicious’ that we swiftly brushed aside. By the time it was John’s Stoutland and Scolipede turn to come over and make themselves known, the youngsters had lost their unease enough to give them wary, explorative pats of their own. Things settled down a bit afterwards, as the Golurk and the other wilds drifted off, and John turned his attention off for the stairs with a sigh.
“Right, guess that’s a sign we should get moving along,” he said. “Rufus and Rudd must be starting to get worried from being separated from anyone they know in a bunch of ancient ruins like these…”
Which, I suppose they were, even if things turned out quite differently from what we had feared at the time.
That part of the story is one that I admittedly only know from what others told me after the fact, including my children. And as such, it can sometimes be hard for me to tell what is improbable truth and what is merely flights of fancy.
But, from the best that I was able to piece things together, right around the time we’d received our guidance to find my children, they were walking along none the wiser a few floors above us. Mixed in with the rest of the inexperienced guardian’s creche. My understanding is that my children got mixed up with them in the first place after they chanced to overhear from one of the youngling wilds that they were on a journey for a special day and decided to tag along after their curiosity got the better of them.
One thing led to another, and before they knew it, my children were roped into the ranks of a procession of various local guardians, all making their way up for the tower’s higher floors. They trudged along, passing the parts of Dragonspiral Tower where only the strongest of Pokémon that live there dare make their dens, and carrying on into the parts of the tower that are left unclaimed entirely beyond sparing visits. My children apparently picked up on the shift in atmosphere and began to grow unnerved themselves, with my younger child spending much of the trek nervously cradling his marble in his claws.
Now children have a certain degree of naivete and innocence to them while they are younger, one that my own children still had at the time, and I suppose that they still do to this day. To them, those upper floors seemed much the same as the ones that they’d already gone through, except quieter and lonelier.
I suppose it was partly my fault for not teaching them more about Dragonspiral Tower before coming. Since if I had, they’d have known that they were passing through spaces that had been set aside for visitors to steel themselves. A place to clear one’s mind and compose oneself before entering the presence of the god who’d made a roost at the top of Dragonspiral Tower.
And, in light of the stories about that god from the past: they were also spaces that provided a safe berth. Just in case someone who came before that great being threw him into a rage.
All of which were things that my children remained ignorant about as they carried along with the surrounding crowd of strangers and kept trying to break an increasingly stifling atmosphere by finding little snatches of amusement for themselves… attempts which didn’t particularly endear them to the shrine’s guardians who were present. There were representatives of all the that watched over the tower making the journey: young and old, weak and strong, and with all their kinds accounted for in their ranks. Druddigon, Mienfoo and Mienshao, Golett and Golurk… why there was apparently even a Dragonite who was born to that little colony of sea serpents in the moat who was present. That same one that is said to have started some years ago after one of their kind took shelter there after being wounded and came to take a local Druddigon as a mate.
Though being the restless souls that they were, my children grew increasingly tired of marching along, and had grown more than a little unnerved by the ever-more-noticeable lack of life in their surroundings. And much like any other restless children herded along by adults, they started to look for opportunities to slip away.
“Gon!”
Which time and time again were thwarted by the creche’s guardian, who would dutifully herd them back into line, if increasingly worn down by having to do the same with over a dozen other souls who’d gotten similar ideas at the most inopportune times. The final straw finally came in a hall with a decorated frieze, where my children’s attention drifted off towards a small collection of pebbles that had broken off and laid at its base. One pebble with a flash of red on it caught my elder child’s eye, and without thinking, he went over and scooped it up, sharing it with his brother…
“DRUDDIGON!”
Only to be summarily interrupted by the creche’s guardian, who yanked it out of his claws and bellowed in his face. She let out a frustrated roar, declaring that she had put up with enough of their misbehavior during the journey, and didn’t need them making a mockery of the ritual they were participating in on top of everything else.
Which, I suppose, was only to be expected coming from a Pokémon of her sort. And it was perhaps a more generous reaction than what some more harsh-minded types among her peers might have done. Though being roared in one’s face by someone bigger and stronger than you takes nerves to stand firm against, and for a pair of children worn down from a long and increasingly tiresome walk that’d stopped being fun for them…
“Goooooon!”
It was just the push they both needed to break down, as they began to whine and cry for their mother. The creche guardian grimaced and bit her tongue at my children’s cries. After all, Pokémon like her who care poorly for their charges often aren’t suffered well once those youngsters’ true parents hear about their treatment. Between her inexperience, and growing worries over how a job done poorly would reflect on her or lead to things being taken out of her hide, the caretaker began to have her own nerves start to fray.
“D-Drud… Druddigon!”
The Druddigon hurried over and pawed and nudged at my children, cooing at them with hushed apologies and reassurances that their actions weren’t that bad, since no harm had come to the sacred pebble they’d disturbed. That surely the whole episode could be all swept under the den and forgotten.
Her efforts fell flat as my children remained inconsolable, while the others from her creche looked on puzzledly, and the rest of the procession stopped and stared. The guardian’s inexperience had apparently carried over to other duties in the past, as a few onlookers were particularly unimpressed with her. Some even gave wondering harrumphs to themselves as to how on earth she had ever been put in charge of watching over a creche of youngsters of all things.
“Shao?”
The caretaker Druddigon cringed and pinned her wings back as the Mienshao from earlier came over. He traded a glance between her and her still-crying charges, before cupping a wispy-furred paw under one chin and then the other, and giving a set of gentle scratches to calm my children. As the pair sniffled and began to settle down, the Mienshao stooped before them, and asked them what was going on, and why the two were troubling their caretaker so?
“Gon?”
“Druddi… gon?”
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who thought that Mienshao resembled my mentor, as even my children got things mixed up with him at first.
The Mienshao paused with a knowing murmur under his breath, before turning to the Druddigon guardian and speaking up in explanation: that he had an idea of who these two were, since he’d encountered Pokémon like them before from lived experience. These youngsters weren’t the two charges she initially thought, but outsiders from their tower who dwelt among humans.
I was told that the caretaker Druddigon went stiff with a startled grimace afterwards, and looked about ready to keel over from embarrassment as snickers and unimpressed grumbles at her mistake went about the other Pokémon. Including from some of her own creche’s younglings. The Mienshao let his gaze linger on my children for a moment, before turning to the others with a sharp cry.
“Shao! Mienshao!”
Nothing about their plans had changed, he insisted. Even with a pair of outsiders in their midst, the tributes they brought for their god would surely be accepted all the same. At this, my younger child blinked and raised his head up at the Fighting-type with a curious murmur.
“Druddi… gon?”
Wondering just what there ‘tributes’ that they were going to offer were.
“Mien…”
The Mienshao looked down at the marble in my youngest child’s claws, before explaining that like them, they had all brought treasures of their own to offer and motioned off at some of the elder Pokémon in the crowd. Some brought food that had been their first fruits taken from the surrounding forest, others came bearing flowers and fragrant plants that would be pleasing to smell, while still others carried little baubles of their own. Ones with splendid colors or glistening surfaces that would gleam after catching a suitable ray of light.
My children blinked in reply, unsure what to make of the procession when the Mienshao took my younger child’stheir marbles and explained that those ‘tributes’ were gifts. Ones that they were quite lucky to be able to witness, since they would have the chance to take part of a ritual that until very recently, none of the Pokémon that lived in and around Dragonspiral Tower had been able to carry out in many lifetimes.
“Drud?”
The children were curious, since while their travels through Dragonspiral Tower had been special for them and they had heard others say it was a special day, none of the other Pokémon had mentioned anything before about there being a ‘ritual’ of some sort. The Druddigon caretaker opened her mouth and began to explain in her tongue only to be stopped by a gentle prod by a paw lined with wispy fur.
“Mienshao.”
The Mienshao assured her that the younglings would see for themselves why things were so special soon enough. There was a brief moment of hesitation, before my children followed along and rejoined the procession. They resumed their march shortly afterwards, as all the while, my children’s restlessness had tamped down, and wondered under their breaths to themselves about what this mysterious surprise might be.
I’m not sure whether or not knowing what my children were going through at the time would’ve comforted me at all, but without that knowledge, my companions and I were focused more on returning the two youngsters who’d joined our midst. Once we made our way up to the third floor, the overall atmosphere of the tower abruptly changed. Where there was bustling life just a floor before, now at the base of a spiraling set of steps that led to a platform with flooring that had been cracked into a maze, there was eerie silence and quiet. There were no dens made out in the open that could be seen, and what few footprints or shed scales and fur were present were only occasionally scattered about. Mostly from Pokémon who were far stronger than the wilds we’d left behind on the second floor.
My mate gave me a nudge and worried murmur, and asked if things were alright. I supposed that they were, but for Pokémon like me who grew up in this place, we were taught from a young age that the tower’s floors were not our own—that the higher one went, that the more one treaded on ever more sacred and dangerous ground. Even our humans put two and two together once they reached the top of the steps, where they found a metal sign set up against the wall. Placed there recently enough that there were no signs of weathering aside from a faint layer of dust, with human glyphs that Noel could read as clear as day from a dozen paces away.
“‘Do not enter, dangerous Pokémon territory ahead’?”
There was a long block of smaller human glyphs on the sign under the message. I can’t tell you what they said other than that it likely could’ve been replaced with ‘trespassers will be burned and eaten’ and it’d have communicated the danger of poking around willy-nilly just as effectively. John went over and inspected the sign, before casting a wary glance up towards the floor’s ceiling high above.
“... I knew that there were a couple sightings of the dragon around lately, but that doesn’t mean it’s not necessarily here, right?” he asked “It’s not as if it’s constantly just lurking here to burn up anything that gets too close…”
My mate let out a quiet squeak as a frightened tremor went down his spine at the idea of having to come face to face with a living god whose fiery pique was literally a thing of legends. I nudged him and reassured that things wouldn’t surely come to that, and that the dragon of legend who had awakened here a few years prior was most likely wandering about far, far away right now…
“Druddigon!”
Only for the youngsters accompanying us to perk up and cheerfully explain that that same dragon of legend would indeed be coming to the tower soon, and would be eagerly awaiting gifts of tribute. My mouth flopped open after their reply and I set my teeth on edge with a startled grimace. I suppose that I should’ve expected something of the sort to happen after the Golurk told us to head upwards. But at the time, I didn’t know about the watchful gazes my children were under just a few floors above us. And as youngsters who had already drawn the ire of the locals from their ignorance, I couldn’t help but start shedding scales over the thought of my children cheerfully stumbling headfirst into a fiery end.
“I doubt it, John. Otherwise there’d be more stories like that,” Jane replied. “But even so, if things were serious enough for the Rangers to leave a sign like this, we shouldn’t go tempting fate.”
“Right... do any of you have reception right now?” Carol asked “I brought my old X-Transciever with me. There should be Rangers on-staff around these parts. This would probably be a good time to stop and call them for help.”
Carol raised her wrist and held up a worn-looking device on it, one of those old watch things that used to be popular a few years ago that have since been falling out of favor for those slate-like “phones” which are all the rage these days. My mate huddled beside her, watching the screen anxiously as a chime rang out, when I looked to my right and noticed that the two youngsters were gone.
“Drud?”
I stiffened up and hurriedly dropped to all fours, sniffing the ground to catch their scent as I followed it into the maze of tiled platforms and upturned stones. I climbed one and made my way from one platform to the next between glides and clambering with my claws. All the while, I stopped and looked around for any sign of the younglings, keeping quiet so as not to alert my trainers.
“Druddigon! Druddigon!”
That was when I finally came across them: starting up the base of a set of steps that spiraled up again along an outer wall.
“Drudd!”
I darted forward and snatched the pair up and off the steps. They flinched under my grasp and pinned their wings back as I glared down at them and let out an annoyed growl demanding an explanation: of what on earth the two thought they were doing sneaking off from us, especially in a place like this where it was dangerous to wander about. I let out a low growl and reminded them that if anything had happened to the two, that their parents and untold numbers of their comrades would surely have my and my companions’ hides.
The pair squirmed briefly, before the younger of them raised his head, and lifted a claw to point off upward.
“Gon… Di…?”
They too had been told the stories about how these parts of the tower were places to tread carefully. And yet in spite of it, their creche had been given the honor of going up with a party of their elders to explore it that day. Whatever danger there was in this place, it didn’t apply to them since their caretakers had deemed it safe enough for them to come along.
I blinked and stared down at the two. And while I must confess it’s a tad embarrassing to admit, I couldn’t help but start to agree with the youngsters’ reasoning. After all, the Golurk had entrusted us with reuniting the dragonlets and said nothing about it being a dangerous task… and surely Pokémon born and raised among the ranks of the local guardians would be better prepared to handle any unexpected surprises.
“Gon! Gon!”
The elder of the two dragonlets already started his way up the stairs, flaring his wings and nosing upwards to beckon us to follow. According to him, the others had already come through here and it’d be easy enough to find them based off of their trail.
“Drud?”
I glanced down and sure enough, the stones around us did appear to be suspiciously free of dust, and there were even fresh footprints lingering about at the edges. I stopped and craned down to gather the travelers’ scent, picking up the smell of a party that had come through. One which had had Druddigon among their numbers, with two scents that lingered more than the others that stood out to me:
“Drud!”
The scents of my children. I didn’t need any prompting to come along after that and hurried after the elder dragonlet, all but dragging his younger counterpart with me up the steps when a startled cry rang out from the other end of the chamber.
“Ack! Where’s Neela?! She was just here with us a moment ago!”
I paused and flinched at the voice after realizing that it was James’. His siblings’ voice joined in with his afterwards in alarm, along with their Pokémon’s... and my mate’s, whose own voice sounded downright panicked. I couldn’t get a clear view of them from so far away, but every word of theirs echoing along the ancient walls and stones cut at my hide and made me waver.
About whether or not this was a good idea, about whether or not I should turn back…
“... Druddigon.”
I shook my head and sucked in a sharp breath. I’d been entrusted to return the two dragonlets in order to get my children back, with or without my companions’ help. A task that I already knew full well I’d be unlikely to explain to my humans, much less successfully convince them to join in with it.
I trudged along and tried not to listen to their voices as we headed upwards from the third floor. All the while, I kept telling myself that soon enough we’d be together and in each other’s claws once again.
The air seemed to grow heavier and heavier as the youngsters and I continued climbing up the upper floors of Dragonspiral Tower. On the fourth floor, we would turn up occasional footprints and scales or strands of fur from the procession of wild Pokémon we’d been tracking… along with scars in the walls and floors which bore testament to fierce battles in the past. The youngsters said they were left behind from trainers and their Pokémon fighting with each other during Team Plasma’s raid a few years past, or at least that was what they had been told by their elders.
I had no reason to disbelieve them from what I knew about their elder counterparts, even if the sight still made me wince. The fifth floor was a temporary respite from our climb, one which proved short-lived as we made our way into the main chamber. In that chamber, there is a strange, circular maze that one must pass through—one with gaps which are hard to jump or glide across even for a Druddigon. The one consolation was that the maze lacked walls outside a couple lonely remnants and a central column, which allows one passing through it to have a good look of the surroundings while navigating it and allows sound to travel far and wide.
“Druddigon! Druddigon!”
But once again, there was neither hide nor scale to be found of my children. I must confess that things were a bit overwhelming for me at that time, and I let out a quiet whine before turning my eyes up towards the ceiling. There were only two floors left before we reached the top of Dragonspiral Tower, and I was starting to grow anxious over just how high up it my children and this procession could have gone.
“Digon!”
Now children have a way of having their own priorities surface even during serious moments. And the youngster wilds were no exception back then. A turn of my head revealed the elder dragonlet was grasping a bauble from the ground and lifting it up, while his younger counterpart noticed it and grabbed at it. The pair growled, squabbling and wrestling with each other over their little treasure. Some old habits took over me at the sight, and I narrowed my eyes and stomped over to the pair with a sharp reprimand.
“Drud!”
I snatched the bauble out of their claws and drew a pair of yelps, before glaring down with a sharp growl. Chiding words demanding that they behave came out of my mouth before I caught myself and realized something was amiss:
The two had been born and raised in an abode of the gods. Surely they of all Pokémon would have been taught better than to just go around picking at its sacred stones willy-nilly.
“Gon! Druddigon!”
The younger dragonlet protested that they hadn’t been doing anything of the sort, and that they had found a treasure which had been brought in from outside. I glanced down at the bauble in my claws, and sure enough, I saw that I was holding a human coin. Pocket change of the sort that many humans don’t think anything of losing in a corner of their dens, but one which was new enough to still be polished and gleaming. Hardly a relic that would’ve been lying around the tower since ancient times.
Then what, I asked the dragonlets, was this little coin doing here?
The pair traded looks with one another before the younger motioned up towards the ceiling with a cheerful cry.
“Drud! Drud!”
The coin was probably a tribute and had most likely slipped the claws of one of their fellows who went before them, he explained. After all, the Lord of the Tower had returned to them some time ago, and he was due to come and visit today.
I froze afterwards, much as if a sudden winter chill had blown over me. When the pair had said the dragon would be coming ‘soon’, I’d held out hope that ‘soon’ would stretch out into another day. As their words sank in, I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach as I turned and nervously asked them…
“Drud… digon?”
Just when today was the Lord of the Tower expected to arrive?
PREEEEAAH!
Almost as soon as I asked, a bellowing roar rang out and shook the tower in its presence. The dragonlets reflexively dropped onto all four claws and clung tight as dust and loose pebbles shook loose in the background. Calm returned shortly afterwards, but even so, I couldn’t help but stand there dumbly, with my mouth hanging open in fright.
I had heard that same roar before through the picture-box in the Does’ living room several years ago:
When the strange man with green hair spoke before all Unova alongside the Dragon of Vast White.
“G-Gon… Gon…”
There are few moments more sobering for a parent, few where one feels as helpless, as when one knows that one’s children are in danger while being unable to protect them. And knowing that my children were in a place where they did not know how to behave in the presence of a divine being that was said to have burned regions...
Well, it was hard to keep my head and wings raised afterwards. Much less to fight back growing tears of despair as I thought of what might happen to my children.
“Drud! Drud!”
I raised my head after the younger dragonlet let out a cry and saw that he’d made his way through the final turns of the maze. He was happily standing and waving at us from the base of a set of stairs headed upwards, with another human coin in his claws. His elder companion growled in protest and hurried off to try and contest him for ownership of it. That was when I noticed faint voices coming from further above, including ones who were much like those of the two youngsters with me.
“Druddigon!”
Something snapped inside me and I thrust the coin back into the elder drake’s claws before dragging him along, rushing over towards the younger as fast as my limbs and the maze’s path would let me. I didn’t bother to stop to explain things to them, as I all but dragged the two up the steps with a pair of yelps.
From the voices, I knew that my children were close by, and I would get them back and out of harm’s way.
Or die trying.
The next floor went by in a blur, which I suppose is only to be expected when one’s mind is wracked with fear for the life and limb of one’s children. The main chamber of the floor happening to have a relatively straightforward path didn’t hurt our pace either. Why, aside from a few glimpses of scars of battles past in the ruins, there wasn’t much to distract me or the youngsters until we made it over to the final flight of stairs.
“Gon?”
It was there that at long last, that we found the procession of wilds the Golurk told us about gathered along the steps. Sure enough, all the kinds of the tower’s Pokémon were represented amongst their ranks. Young and old, weak and strong, and with no shortage of Druddigon present, either.
“Druddigon!”
Including the guardian for the creche that the two younglings with me had wandered off from. She barreled down the steps, scampering along her claws as she hurriedly rushed over and tucked the pair under her arms. She looked down, giving worried whines to the two as she pleaded with them in her tongue to keep their absence between the three of them and to not tell their parents.
Part of me still wonders how long the other Druddigon had been serving her role as that creche’s guardian back then. She seemed a bit inexperienced and clumsy, and yet at the same time, with the way the youngsters squirmed and tried to avoid being seen with her, she’d clearly served long enough for her peers to form an opinion about her.
“Mienshao.”
Though that was when the Mienshao came. One of the elders of his kind, as he introduced himself. He started with a bit of smalltalk, telling me that I’d done well to make it so far. He assured me that my children were unharmed and had behaved themselves—or at least well enough—and that he understood that I was worried sick about them.
It was all well and good, but I couldn’t help but find myself staring at the Mienshao with my head held at a tilt that he eventually noticed and found strange.
“Mien?”
For whatever reason, he really did look eerily like my mentor back in the Does’ household. I don’t know whether or not that was from me having trouble telling Pokémon of other kinds apart, much as humans sometimes do, or if my mentor has a story of his own to tell about relatives of his he left behind back around Dragonspiral Tower. But I suppose that’s a story for him to tell himself some other time.
At that moment, I was just relieved that everything seemed to have resolved itself without incident, and thinking more about returning back to my mate and friends along with my children. I gave the Mienshao my thanks, and stepped forward with open claws to claim my children.
“Druddi! Druddi!”
Only for those thoughts to come to a swift end after my younger child cried out and went over to snatch something from a small treasure pile in the claws of one of the local Druddigon along with his elder brother.
“Lett!”
It went about as well as expected, as a pair of Golett stepped out, angrily barking at the pair to return the stolen bauble to their lord’s offerings. I hurried forward to try and set things right, only for my children to backpedal with low whines. They glanced over their shoulders and saw sunlight coming through a doorway, and at once charged through.
Into the same chamber with the shattered roof where the Dragon of Vast White had made his roost in bygone times.
“Druddigon!”
That was all that I needed to spur me forward into running after my children myself. The Golett hurried after them, with a few of their fellow wilds joining in, only for them all to abruptly stop at the doorway and refuse to venture a step further. They craned their heads out and in harsh tones, demanded my children come back at once and return their pilfered offering. Demands which the two answered with hisses and growls of protest.
“Gon! Gon!”
When I made it to the doorway, I at last saw what the cause of their dispute was. There, in my younger child’s claw, was one of the marbles he’d brought along that day as a toy. I couldn’t help but grimace a bit at some of the unamused glares and frowns the nearby wilds were giving me, and truthfully, I probably should’ve been more diligent about keeping my children’s treasures safely tucked away…
“Druddigon!”
But such considerations weren’t on my mind at the time. I hurried into the chamber, under the light of the sun as I stepped into a space with broken pillars and walls set beneath the remnants of an ancient roof that had been blown away from inside. I hurried over to my children and snatched them up, scolding them that they’d scared me half to death, and were most fortunate that the Pokémon that dwelled here wasn’t present to take offense to them charging into this place.
“Preeeeaah!”
A deafening roar rang out, from the same voice that I’d heard through the picture cube years ago. One that demanded to know who dared impose upon his den. Over at the doorway, the wilds at the threshold reflexively cringed and hurriedly made themselves scarce as they took shelter to its sides.
That was when it dawned on me that the chamber wasn’t anywhere near as empty as I had thought.
“Drud… digon?”
My children turned to look further down the chamber as the sound of heavy footsteps approached, and let out frightened squeals before they hurriedly hid behind me. My younger child let his marble slip from his grasp as he latched onto my wings for safety, and left it to roll off along the ancient tiles. I saw the marble drift away briefly, before I turned and followed my children’s eyes up and deeper into the chamber…
Where there was the Dragon of Vast White, approaching us with his blue eyes fixed down into a piercing scowl.
For a moment, I thought that that was the end. I crouched, throwing my body and wings in front of my children as a shield as I stood firm. Or at least as firm as one can in the presence of an incensed god. The dragon wasn’t particularly impressed, and bared his fangs with a snarl, demanding to know by what right we dared impose on a dragon’s den without even asking for entrance.
… I can see that skeptical look in your eye. And I suppose that beyond my and my children’s own words, I don’t have any hard proof of our encounter. But even so, everything in this story did indeed happen, and I remember the moment that came afterwards like it was yesterday: the moment when the dragon’s growls trailed off and his blue eyes drifted toward the ground with a curious murmur.
My eyes followed after his gaze, when I saw the Dragon of Vast White stare down at the marble on the floor. He blinked and stooped down to scoop it up into his claws, bringing it up to his eyes as he let out a content rumble. He mused aloud that it reminded him of his travels with one of his recent companions, a green-haired man who he had chosen as a hero. One who had introduced him to many strange and wonderful things that humans had, including marbles much like this one which the man would render as tribute to calm him whenever the two had a particularly sharp disagreement.
I must confess, it was a bit surprising to hear even Reshiram speak so fondly of treasures like the ones in my hoard. I suppose I had heard it said before that he and the other dragon that once lived there were like us in temperament, but I’d never imagined that it would carry over even to such petty pleasures.
The local wilds began to warily pop their heads out from around the corners of the doorway and emerge from their hiding places. Sensing that the dragon’s mood was in better spirits, I decided not to tempt fate any further. I spoke up and began to explain that my children and I hadn’t meant to impose upon his roost. That we were sorry for any impropriety or embarrassment we’d caused, and would quickly take our leave.
“G-Gon! Druddigon!”
My younger child burst out from behind me, raising his voice in protest that the marble was his treasure and that it couldn’t just be taken. I’ll admit that my heart skipped a beat after hearing my younger child raise his voice, as I quickly grabbed onto him and pulled him close with a harsh shush, my elder peeking warily from behind my wings as the Dragon of Vast White tilted his head at us with a guarded frown.
“Drud…”
I shuffled in front of my children and turned up my head, baring my throat with my wings pinned back and trembling. I spoke up as best as I could, explaining that I was deeply sorry if my children had caused him any offense. They were young and hadn’t been raised among his servants’ ranks, and because of my own shortcomings, they weren’t familiar with its ways.
Except, much to my surprise, the great dragon wasn’t upset, but puzzled. I’d clearly raised young who were fierce and determined, he told me. Ones who even at such a young age were willing to stand up for things as they rightfully were, even if they weren’t easy to defend.
With outstretched claw, the Lord of Truth pointed down with a skeptical frown and asked aloud in our tongue:
I was clearly from here. So then why was I not standing guard over his tower like the others present beyond the doorway?
I cast a glance back past my wings as scales brushed up against me, where my elder child was trying to hold back his little brother as he stared at the marble in Reshiram’s claws, letting his maw quiver with a low whine.
There was a moment of silence, before I gave the dragon my answer:
That it was because I had others away from Dragonspiral Tower who still needed me to stand guard over them.
There was a long silence, before the Dragon of Vast White stooped down, and rolled the marble along the ground towards my children. My younger child eagerly snatched it up, before shrinking back, looking up into the great dragon’s blue eyes as the ancient drake let out a rumbling chuckle.
He bore no grudge against us, he reassured. For he knew himself how much a treasure could mean to a dragon. He would overlook our transgression, so long as we saw we made sure to take better care of the treasures of our own in our lives.
I know that you obviously are a bit doubtful, and truthfully, I sometimes can’t believe that that encounter wasn’t all a dream. But that commision was my cue to shuffle my children along for the door. The pair of Golett from the procession of guardians entered afterwards along with a few of their fellows bearing their tributes, bowing and offering profuse apologies to their patron as we headed back out into the hall.
As we passed, a number of the wild Pokémon stared at us. Some in awe, others in envy, others telling us to thank our lucky stars that we hadn’t worn out the patience of their lord. Along the way, I saw the inexperienced guardian near the back of her creche, pawing at her shoulder and looking away with a downcast gaze.
Perhaps my sentimental side got the better of me, but I stopped for a moment as I passed her, and raised my voice with a determined growl.
‘Stand tall, brave and noble dragon’. I told her. She had defended my greatest treasures well and had my eternal thanks for it. Even if she’d made a few mistakes, I could already tell she’d been admirably defending her own little treasures all about her.
And that I was sure that she would grow to be a great guardian someday.
She batted her wings flusteredly for a moment, before we bid each other farewell. To her and the youngsters she watched over, all as the Mienshao elder and other faces in the crowd watched us leave from the stairs.
I can’t say that I’ve kept up to date with the workings of those Pokémon. But it hasn’t been that long since we saw each other. From what I saw of them, I’m sure that the tower and its forests are in good care these days under their watch.
The journey back down from the tower’s peak was mercifully less stressful than the climb up, if a bit longer than I’d expected. Part of that was because the entire way down, my children would stop to examine little relics and curiosities in and along the tower’s floors and walls. They’d fawn over them a bit and ask me what this or that relic was, while I would answer them and ply them with stories told to me when I was about their age. Ones told to me by my own parents and guardians about how my once-home came to be.
Though time has a way of flying by even at a lazy pace, and before we knew it, we were back on the floor with the spiral maze. We took our time retracing our steps there, carefully making our way back through scent trails and footprints in dust when I felt a tug at my wings.
“Gon?”
It was my elder child, who glanced up at the ceiling before he asked me in our tongue…
Would we meet the Dragon of Vast White again in the future?
He stared up longingly alongside his brother, and from the way they still speak of their encounter to their friends, I suppose it left quite an impression on them. I wasn’t sure how to answer them at the time, and paused for a moment, before I decided that it was best to be frank and not to avoid the truth:
That I didn’t have an answer to their question. Since when I had grown up around Dragonspiral Tower, the Dragon of Vast White had been in deep slumber for longer than anybody had been alive. What few stories I’d been told back then said that when he was awake, that even for the Pokémon that lived around his roost, just a passing encounter with him was already a rare treat.
Even if I don’t know how much of a treat it is to be in such a being’s presence if he's in a foul mood. Though I’ve heard from Pokémon that live about Dragonspiral Tower that since reawakening and returning, he’s been a bit more temperate than they expected.
But those latter details were ones that I opted to wait on telling my children until they were older, and they let out quiet whines of disappointment as we made our way deeper into the maze. As we passed along its inner ring, my ears pricked up at the sound of footsteps and familiar scents, when suddenly a loud cry filled the chamber.
“Haxorus!”
It was my mate, who bounded around the corner and swept me up in an embrace. He fought back tears and let out a choking whine to not frighten him the way I had. I nosed at his chest with a low growl, as our children sidled up against his armored scales. We had but a brief moment together before when our companions caught up with him, with John and Carol leading the head of the group.
“There you are!” John snapped. “Neela, don’t run off on us like that!”
“Yeah, you had us worried sick back!” Carol cried. “Just because you used to live here doesn’t mean that it’s a good idea for you to also wander off from us!”
There was a moment of silence between us all as I realized that while the Does were clearly upset with me, their frustration seemed to be one borne of worry. After all, they themselves had braved the sign warning of danger to follow us all the way up here, and had surely feared the entire time that the worst had happened to us. I lowered my head in front of them, before nudging my children back along. My elder child could barely contain his excitement as he darted over to Noel as his trainer pawed at him with a worried stare.
“Are you okay, Rufus?” he asked. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
He answered Noel with outstretched wings and a cheerful nose with his snout, while my younger child darted out and went back to James and his Servine. He eagerly went on and on with his story about how he met the legendary dragon of the tower, and I couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at their reactions. Both at the Servine’s incredulity of how impossible everything sounded, along with James’ befuddled reaction.
“Neela...”
A reaction that was hard to keep up after I heard Jane approaching, with my Pokéball in hand and her face curled down into a sharp frown. I stiffened up and pinned my wings back, and braced myself for the expected earful from her.
“I’m happy that you managed to exchange those Druddigon for Rufus and Rudd, but what on earth were you thinking?!” she huffed. “You should’ve let us help! Honestly, I’d have expected Rufus and Rudd to sneak off like this, but you ought to know better!”
I pawed at my shoulder before letting out an apologetic growl. Jane paused briefly, before shaking her head and folding her arms with a sharp scoff.
“What on earth was further up the tower that made you all act like this, anyways?”
Life has a funny way of timing things sometimes, since right as I opened my mouth to explain myself, a bellowing roar rang out. Loud and strong enough to shake the tower underfoot again. My teammates flinched briefly, while my mate… let out a cry of his own that was an octave or two higher than I’d remembered him letting out for some years.
Except I and my children didn’t budge… well, aside from shielding our ears. After all, we knew what that roar was, and as a shock of white that went by the windows, it dawned to me that it was a cry of triumph.
“Druddigon!”
My elder child got a bit swept up in the moment, as he eagerly pointed at the windows, calling out goodbyes to a figure that we briefly glimpsed pulling up over the trees and slipping away into the clouds. My mate pulled me close with a low whine, worriedly asking what on earth the creature was and if we were safe.
My children were quick to hurry over to tell him it was the Dragon of Vast White and tell him tales of their encounter with him. The explanation took the Haxorus aback, and even our other teammates couldn’t help but stare in disbelief. I’m not sure how well the humans with us were able to see things for themselves—especially since human eyes can be a bit weak in dim light—but even so, Carol’s brother seemed to put things together well enough, as he stared at the Does with an expression of blank awe.
“It’s that roar again…” the Verne boy murmured. “Was… that the dragon that used to rest here?”
There was a brief moment of incredulity among the Doe siblings, before James went up and pawed at my younger child, staring down at him with blinking surprise.
“Rudd? Did… you all actually see the dragon up there?”
The little drake excitedly fanned his wings out, going on and on about how he indeed had met the dragon, who was fierce and scary, but still nice in spite of it all. Which… with the way we Pokémon’s tongues are to humans, naturally went completely over his trainer’s head.
The others puzzled among themselves over what my child’s response meant. Even if I’m not sure if they would’ve believed us even if they had understood our words. John’s Scolipede and Stoutland certainly weren’t convinced of my children’s claims at the time in spite of their protests. I couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at it all, before I carried off along for the steps and motioned for the others to follow.
“Druddigon!”
After all, we were all still in a place that we weren’t supposed to be. Even if we had the resident Pokémon’s blessing to be there, it wouldn’t do any good to worry those Rangers Carol called… or their parents for that matter. There was a brief moment of hesitation, before Jane’s Marowak pawed at her trainer’s side and motioned after me, leaving her trainer to sigh and shake her head.
“I’m not sure if they understood the question or not, James. And I don’t think we’ll ever know for sure,” Jane said. “But whatever happened between them up there, I think we’ve all had enough excitement for one day. Let’s go home.”
Everyone began to make their way down the stairs after that, with James and Noel keeping a close watch over my children to make sure they wouldn’t sneak off yet again as we made our way back out of the tower. As we climbed down the ancient flight of stairs, we chanced to pass by a window, where I stopped and let my eyes drift outside.
There was a view there of the surrounding moat and forests, with Icirrus City and its windmills poking up at the base of hills in the distance. I’ll admit, for a moment, I got a bit lost in the scenery. Since even when I lived around the Dragonspiral Tower, I’d never had a chance to look down on the world like that.
Perhaps it’s part of the reason why Druddigon and their companions continue to dwell in the tower and its surroundings to this day. Since I’ll admit, for a moment, I wondered whether or not it really was the place where I ultimately belonged.
“H-Hax?”
My mate’s voice snapped me back to attention as I saw him coming up the steps and asking me if something was wrong. His head and tail were tucked in close to his body as he nervously glanced around his surroundings, still on edge from the earlier roar.
Those thoughts faded for a bit, as I beckoned my mate to come near. I insisted that everything was fine and that I was just taking in the view.
“... Xor?”
He wasn’t sure of what to make of my reply at first, when he came up and saw things for himself, and stood there in awe of the surroundings. While we’ve grown a few years since those days when we first looked out over Icirrus City together, just being there together reminded me of them and the times when we first met.
And it was a reminder that whatever the future ultimately held, that for now, I still had a calling away from this place.
“Gon!”
“Neela! Come on! I thought you wanted to leave!”
My younger child and his trainer’s voices reminded us that we still had a ways to go to depart Dragonspiral Tower. My mate and I turned to take our leave afterwards, if with a brief moment to stop and nuzzle him first. And to thank him for being there with me.
I still haven’t decided whether or not I’ll go back to that tower one day to help the Pokémon there stand guard over it and its treasures again. Some of them might welcome the experience that I’ve picked up to add to back their ranks. While others might think that I’ve been apart from their ways for too long to be effective as a fellow guardian.
But there will be time for me to make up my mind one way or another about it. For now, I have my own treasures away from there to stand guard over. Ones in and around the little houses on the outskirts of Icirrus City that I and my friends call home.
Where to this day, I proudly stand guard over a pair of Dragonspiral’s children.
Hello again Fobbie. I’ve been getting pretty burned out on doing reviews for the Blitz, so I needed something in my comfort zone to get through the last few days of this. Gonna check this out as my final stop (at least, I hope it is. I’m pretty tired.)
But anyway - I have no knowledge of any of your fics that aren’t your main two, so I went into this completely blind thinking it was some kind of mystery involving dragons living in and around Dragonspiral’s Tower. Instead, it’s more slice of life-esque about parents getting their kids a Druddigon for Christmas, with all the predictable hijinx that ensue from that.
Overall, this is pretty cute - almost killing a Tranquill aside, of course. The narrator being somewhat sardonic about the whole ordeal is an interesting touch. Even more so is the whole mystery of who the narrator even is. Could be one of the parents. Could be Neela herself. Could even be a different dragon from the tower, who’s telling this story like we’re both sitting at the campfire, just sharing stories we’ve heard with each other.
Plus, there’s something particularly funny about watching kids treat a dragon like they’re a little yappy dog who doesn’t want to get up. A dragon that clearly has more intelligence than the average house pet, at that. A lot of the fic so far has been the kids being really stupid with the way they’re handling Neela, and Neela herself not being particularly fond of that. Her self aware reactions do sell the chemistry between the kids and her quite well.
And yeah, it’ll be interesting to see what direction the story goes in from here. Since Dragonspiral Tower isn’t too far away in universe, I wonder if something more happens should they decide to go over there… of course, it can stay as a slice of life as well, where the kids learn to treat Pokemon right. Not sure, can’t say I have a big grip on where this fic is going to, narratively speaking.
One complaint I do have with this fic is that the narrator is a bit too on the nose sometimes when they’re explaining things - quite a few things were implied perfectly fine by the dialogue alone, and I didn’t think the commentary offered by the narrator always had that silly punch to it that makes commenting on it worth it. If you’d ever return to this fic to re edit it/attempt a story with a similar style of narration, that’s the main thing I’d keep an eye on.
But yeah, I can’t say I disliked, or even had any major problems with the content I read. It’s a fun little fic you’ve got going here, and given that it’s not very long, I might just return to it in the future… provided that I’m not too busy with other fics, like Fledglings. I’ve still got a hell of a lot of Fledglings to catch up with.
Hiya, here for Catnip. Noticed you’ve been leaving some really nice Blitz review for folks the past few years, and this is a nice and cozy story, so I read a lil extra, on the house–this is a review from Prologue to Epilogue. I did end up reading the Trick or Treat Extra, though I did not read the two post-Epilogue extras.
I thought the title of this was really apt–it’s kind of evocative and mysterious at first glance, but it’s quite fitting. This is a story about growing up around the tower, and you’ve put a lot of love into worldbuilding around Icirrus and Unova at large that I think really helps sell the story. I think the narrowness of the setting really does you a lot of favors; for all the time I’ve spent looking at Unova I rarely see anything done with druddigon or mienshao, so to see them both getting some deep worldbuilding/species development was quite a treat.
Structurally, I recently watched Pokemon Concierge with some friends, and I’m reminded a lot of what I liked about that setup once it started hitting its more episodic formats–we get to see the ups and downs of pokemon and humans, the little misunderstandings and moments that form a delightful relationship. Each of your chapters feels a little monster-of-the-week, except in this case the monster is some sort of lightly comedic misunderstanding, and I think that made for a nice framing device. You get to get to the core of what makes the relationships delightfully awkward but full of love in a low-stakes setting, so the distilled human/pokemon interactions really get front stage here. There’s a lot of cozy moments and the best part is easily that Neela gets a heated blanket, this is an absolutely based decision, good job everyone, we can go home now.
Some misc brick jokes that I was tickled by, but that didn’t really fit well into any sections:
“... Ah... Right. Looks like that Druddigon is one of those rougher-skinned ones,” he remarked. “Pat slower and along the direction of his scales next time.”
It took me up until here to realize when Mr. Doe is saying he’s got one of the smoother skin ones, it’s literally that Neela doesn’t have Rough Skin as an ability; I sort of thought he was just making up random bullshit to try to calm down Mrs. Doe. Except … Druddigon that don’t have Rough Skin have Sheer Force (or Mold Breaker?) so. “Easier to take care of” is probably still a bit of a stretch, though I guess at that point everything is subjective lol, it all worked out in the end.
Heh. I also liked how the Does are the generic family, Jane and John Doe, sort of thing, but given that the only other surnamed character is from Opelucid and loves dragons and is named wyvern (her parents. did they know?), I’m kind of tickled to imagine that Doe is a pun on the local deerling/sawsbuck that get occasional mention. Makes a lot of sense in a world where every type specialist manages to be born with the correct name, lol.
I also liked the bookends of Neela comforting the cubone the first night Jane brought her home, vs grown up Marowak being the first to break the ice when Neela’s brooding.
characters
These types of stories really thrive on the strengths of their characters, and even moreso with the heavy focus on pokemon/human relationships. I really like how you frame a lot of their interactions as no-fault, learning sort of experiences where both parties stand to change a little. It makes for a more fair-seeming world, and it also adds a nice little narrative complexity beyond “lmao pokemon stupid” or “lmao human stupid”. I also like how a lot of the moments are largely calm, devoid of conflict–we can’t be learning all the time; sometimes the only thing we learn is that bread is delicious.
I thought the choice to tell this with a large family is clever. The Doe parents seem to run the typical beleaguered mother/laissez-faire father, but I liked how they got little bits of characterization–Mrs. Doe has some good parenting advice for Neela; Mr. Doe has some great parenting moments with his kids. I think the mentoring bits were my favorite from both parents, as it showed a very tender relationship between their family (especially when the kids themselves are, still learning, how to treat each other with kindness, as kids often do lol) but also implied a really tender relationship with the world. It’s nice to see parental figures actively teaching their kids to be curious and empathetic, Mr. Doe framing Neela’s distress about going outside in a way that would make sense to James, Mrs. Doe helping with the electric blanket. I think you get a lot of mileage out of the slice-of-life shenanigans by having the kids run around and scrape their knees outside of the home, so to speak, but it’s nice that they’ve got a solid place to return to.
I also really liked how you characterized Neela and the dragons in general–she and Chopper seem similar in nature, for example, the same love for marbles and shiny candy (but no play! only look), but different personalities. They hoarddd! I liked how Neela’s base instinct is just to sit on top of things; it adds some levity every time it happens but it also does feel like something she’d realistically want to be doing.
I wasn’t expecting to see everyone grow up over the course of the fic, but I liked the evolving dynamics there and thought that was a clever choice. The seasons change; the kids go to college. It’s a nice backdrop in a story about learning and growth, and I also think it’s fun to compare the Doe kids–who are changing dramatically physically/mentally across the story–with Neela, who seems a lot more laid back from the start. Yet despite the lack of obvious Neela changes, no evolution etc, I do like the more subtle characterization she gets, especially in the Halloween and Rufus/Rudd chapters. The Halloween one is a lot of frankly adorable handmade pokemon costumes, but buried in that is Neela’s sense of duty, fear of missing out every year as everyone else does this fun thing because they’re unaffected by the weather like she is. Sometimes the hardest thing about not doing a thing is realizing how much you would’ve liked it if you’d just gone, and that’s a really raw sentiment to convey in slice-of-life haha. I also really liked the bits where she’s taking her kids outside for the first time and lambasting them for not knowing things–and then realizing she’s not taught them. Reminds me a lot about the tension that immigrant children share with their parents, how the kids have a whole new set of learned experiences but also don’t have a lot of things their parents always had. And I like how quickly Neela’s able to piece that together and pivot her approach–it’s true, moving your home means giving up a lot of the things you had, but there’s still a wide world to experience.
I also thought Carol was incredibly based. Admittedly I think she gets a bit more character development than the Doe kids, which I didn’t mind at all. Like with the parents I think it’s helpful to have a more grounded/knowledgeable individual around for the shenanigans, and while Carol has to learn a lot of things she at least understands how to treat dragons respectfully. I like how Neela takes some of those lessons moving forward–kids can be bribed with shiny things!
narrator
I think initially the narrative framing device reminded me a lot of Princess Bride or A Christmas Story, especially with the old codger fondly reminiscing about an idyllic childhood fantasy Christmas. I thought it was pretty cute, and the ultimate choice of narrator is one that I think was pretty fitting for telling the story of Dragonspiral’s children, so to speak.
I ended up suspecting pretty early that the narrator was Neela|disguise.spoiler.length, so even though the Epilogue pokes fun at the whole thing not being mysterious, I wasn’t entirely sure what the payoff for keeping their identity secret was. And like, I really love atypical narrative framing devices, so I spent a lot of time trying to root cause things–acknowledging that this is probably not something you’re intending to edit any time soon, and mostly just pitching ideas for next time.
Broadly I’m curious what your main goal in having the narrator’s identity at-best obliquely hinted at via context clues, at most actively obfuscated (as they refer to themselves in third person)--I think there are scenarios where those work! But typically it’s like, a dramatic, I don’t want to be the person I was any more, I’ve changed so much and I’m borderline ashamed/disjoint/deadnamed from the person I used to be, which wasn’t the vibe I got from the narrator at all. I think for a shorter-form story it also works, where you don’t have to run into so many scenarios where it wouldn’t make sense for the narrator to tip their hand a little more. Or, alternatively, I think this is a trope that works a lot more in visual media–in the movies I mentioned above, the narrator plays a functionally similar role, but diminished, role to other characters, in that movie characters have a voice and a visual, and the narrator can at least do voiceover. But in writing, narrators inform tone and basically end up also serving the role of the camera, as they curate and inform the things we get to see–it’s a lot larger of a role than the rest of the characters, even moreso in first person narration (which is typically expected to be a more intimate/assumed “close” headspace). Neela is the one responsible for deciding what events get told, and quite literally brings up a bunch of events that could’ve also been told but get cut for time–but I think the narration would’ve benefited from a closer, less mysterious read on the narrator.
Oftentimes part of the confusion for me is that it feels like the narrator is intentionally trying to act omniscient, and I didn’t understand what they were aiming for there–this works in a metanarrative where someone is talking about removed characters, but it’s kind of weird to see it in a metanarrative where the narrator was literally there the whole time. Were they making up how these people felt? Were they making assumptions based on unshown/offscreen conversations? Why does the story they’re told make more sense told through someone else’s assumed/guessed emotions than their own? The omniscient bits are often informed by context clues, but I struggled to see why the narrator would want to remove themself from the narrative so strongly that they are describing internal/personal thoughts of a different character as if it’s objective fact:
The same held true for James the following year. As seasons in his life that in years past felt like they were always just another year off, just another season away, finally arrived.
Though I think where this was most confusing for me was [idk, I’m really committing to this spoiler bit]
when Neela chooses to de-translate her own words to “Druddigon Druddigon”, as well as the other pokemon she’s conversing with. I didn’t really understand what the narrative value of that ends up being–presumably if she’s telling this story to someone, she’s speaking to someone who is able to understand the meaning of her words beyond “Druddigon Druddigon”. And there’s even mentions earlier in the story about how pokemon who are less accustomed to humans won’t be able to understand human speech very well, and Duke isn’t there to translate all the time, so is Neela just embellishing those bits of dialogue but choosing to encrypt her own?
I think this bit really stood out to me when Chopper returns home and Neela introduces the kids to him. This feels like a pretty emotionally heavy moment, the narrator (who is also Neela) is describing tears and trepidation, there’s a lot of things being literally said between them in the moment, but all the dialogue is just syllables.
Ultimately this feels like something that would work better in a visual media–in film it’d make sense that there could be voiceover interspersed with literal footage of what’s currently happening, and it’s on the audience to not be able to understand Neela (though idk how she’d even be narrating the voiceover). Plus, I think the varying inflection of “Gon gon” or whatever comes across a lot more clearly with voice actors than it does in text; you still have to end up adding a lot of “the druddigon growled” or whatever to imply a certain emotion.
I like the broad strokes of the xeno, and again I think Neela’s a good narrator for this, but I also got lost on some of the details. She struggles with the word ‘anniversary’ and treats it like a made up word, which, fair. But she also struggles with the word ‘moving’ (when referring to moving homes)--
The biggest one I’ve seen is that every time I've seen humans do so by ‘moving’, they bring along a small hoard of stuff with them that needs to be moved by a truck. And the new family that moved in that summer was no exception.
Which i guess felt really contrived since she understand the word ‘moved’ just fine, and even ‘moved in’--I don’t really know why this would trip her up specifically either tbh.
John and Jane weren’t particularly impressed and rolled their eyes at their younger brother’s ploy. Being the font of sarcasm that he was, John made sure to cut in, as he couldn't pass up the chance to throw in a barb over the whole episode.
“Good on her,” the elder brother scoffed. “I wouldn’t want to listen to you either!”
I also didn’t find the detached narration super compelling, since they’re trying so hard to be omniscient that they end up retelling a lot of things that are implied in context. The info conveyed by the narrator:
- John and Jane weren’t impressed
- John and Jane express irritation/tiredness with James’s behavior (rolling eyes)
- John is a font of sarcasm
- John can’t resist the chance to snark
The info conveyed by the dialogue:
- John is not impressed with James’s behavior
- John is a font of sarcasm
- John can’t resist the chance to snark
So the added info by the narrator is that Jane is there too I guess, and the visual cue of eye-rolling, but I’m not really sure if it adds much. In a story about tender relationships between various individuals, it feels like a missed opportunity for the narrator to (I guess intentionally) be trying to de-emotion/distance their narration from the events as much as possible. The emotional bits are told almost entirely through the dialogue, which can be sparse sometimes, but the narration doesn’t do much to support it because the narrator is so busy trying to hide which character they are and how they feel about the whole thing.
And I guess I’m not even sure how committed the mystery bit ends up being–I thought it was pretty obvious (and the point) that the narrator was there the whole time (or just making up a bunch more stuff ig):
Ultimately–I think it’s a clever framing device for this setting, makes sense that you’d want to use this narrator–but I think a lot of those reasonings, ironically, get a little buried in the obfuscation. I think it might work better as a more literal framing device–the bookend/scene-setting narration worked well to set the mood/tone of things, imo, and didn’t run into a lot of the narrative confusion cropped up more prevalently in the actual body of the story.
conflict
For the most part I was reading this as a cute slice-of-life, small scope, the lessons learned are that basements are cold and Dragon Con is cool, the flaws we have that incite these conflicts are personal anxiety and being short in a crowd of tall people, sort of thing. I found the Plasma chapter a little out of left field as a result. The “conflicts” (in a very loose, low-stakes sense) that I identified in each chapter were:
(0) Mr. Does gets a new family pokemon without consulting Mrs. Doe. The kids fight briefly over their new gift.
(1) Neela doesn’t want to go outside because it’s cold. Neela doesn’t understand how playing with stuffed animals works. Neela doesn’t understand how babysitting works. Neela doesn’t understand that you can’t eat owned pokemon. The kids don’t understand “leave no trace”. James is bad at making aesthetic bread.
(2) John tries to sneak Neela into school. John tries to skip out on doing his homework. Mrs. Doe doesn’t like bugs. Jane makes an irresponsible trade. Cubone is loud.
(3) A new neighbor shows up. Neela is possessive over Jane’s badge. Chopper climbs too high for his tiny stubby legs. The gang likes sunsets.
(4) Neela is too big for the pool. Neela and Chopper get lost at dragon con. There’s a snooty trainer at dragon con.
(E) Neela is afraid to go trick or treating. Haunted houses are scary.
(5) Team Plasma commits acts of terror on national television by blowing up a millenia-old sacred monument and summoning one of two principal gods in Unova. Team Plasma assaults a bunch of Neela’s friends and causes them grievous harm, in the process also damaging her home. James faces the moral question of if it’s ethical to own your friends.
(6) John goes to college. Chopper is sad that he’s going to college.
(7) Neela is cold. Neela struggles to entrust her eggs to the Does.
(8) Neela’s kids are rambunctious. Neela’s kids are not rambunctious enough. Chopper has been an absentee father.
For me (5) is a huge departure in scope that didn’t quite feel built up to compared to the rest of the story–watching Dragonspiral Tower vandalism on TV feels like watching the beginnings of a war, or some awful terrorism event. I get that the kids kind of aren’t really old enough to get it fully, and suddenly awful things are a part of growing up. I also think stories are typically told with an internal structure, and this is one of those things that you’d probably want to build to more properly if you wanted to build to it–which makes sense, it’s a story about pokemon and humans living in Unova.
I think identifiably the real hiccup for me is in the inciting incident/framing–there are other heavy/heartwarming moments in the story, Chopper doesn’t break his ball and stays with Carol, Neela chooses to move her den upstairs. These were also heavy drama, but to me they feel less out of place because the conflict is being instigated by the main cast–it’s Chopper’s grief and indecision that drives him to run away; it’s Neela’s brooding instincts that lead her to isolate herself from the rest of the family. These feel like sized-up versions of previous conflicts, folks have grown a little from “Neela doesn’t understand how babysitting works” but the call’s coming from inside of the house, so to speak, which I think works in a slice-of-life story.
Notably, (5) represents a big departure from this trend–the stakes are bigger, but also the instigator of “X causes thing” is someone we’ve never heard of before. This chapter has to introduce their motivations, but the narrator’s not super interested in delving into those so we don’t really know what they’re after. But the resolution follows the same pattern–the kids figure it out on their own and come to a heartfelt conclusion that involves them growing up a little as people and also giving out nice hugs. But that kind of conflict resolution doesn’t quite feel complete, or matching in scope, to the inciting incidents, which already feel out of place in the story–so things there never quite feel resolved.
some more musings on stakes and narrative relevance, aka tunneling in on one or two very specific lines
prefacing this section with a general, idk, I’m known to have Opinions that don’t align with a lot of the fandom on things. A lot of people probably will not share the opinions voiced here, and ultimately it’s entirely up to you. I do think, broadly speaking, my quibbles with these paragraphs were more from a structural/narrative perspective than the actual debate at hand, which is why I left this section in the review, but generally it’s likely a lot of your audience wouldn’t agree with me, which is why it’s in the “open and ignore at your own leisure” spoiler.
There’s been some debate in recent years as to how fitting it is to present a partnering Pokémon as a gift. Something about it objectifying the Pokémon and cheapening the bond between it and its trainer. I personally don’t really see the connection given that Pokémon that don’t like their trainers have a tendency to vote with their feet, but that’s a talk none of the Doe kids or their parents were thinking about that day.
I’m not entirely sure I followed the argument here: in a broader context, the primary issue people have with being objectified is that they don't want to be treated like objects–they’re mad that they're getting lesser treatment than everyone else for something outside of their control. And people in unfair situations are often aware they could -technically- simply disengage, but don't want to, since no one else has to/they have things at stake they can't give up/sometimes actually they can't leave. And then within the context of the story, the very next conflict involves Neela being able to go outside during the winter without entering a comatose state, which, while not permanently harming her, suggests that she'd be very much unable to select the “leaving” option if it came to voting with her feet for a quarter of her life.
I'm also not sure if there's a feasible, society-wide counterargument against the idea that broadly using certain individuals as gifts could never be even “connect[ed]” to objectifying, because the basis of being objectified is to be treated as an object, and the act of gifting something inherently means treating it like an object. I just also don't think that such a counterargument matters to your story–the spirit of it felt like a warm and cozy slice-of-life fic, not a philosophical lens on social equality. “What does it really mean to be objectified, could it actually be okay, and is my entire society free from injustice?” feels much less what you wanted to write about than “do Neela and the Does have a loving relationship?”
And the answer to the second question is a resounding yes imo–it’s abundantly clear that the Does respect Neela and take her considerations into account, Mr. Doe is careful to teach his kids to empathize with her even when it means telling them to challenge their own norms, etc. It's a slice-of-life story about a loving family of six, and I think the scope of the genre really revolves around how these people treat one another. Opening it up to “[some people produce] some debate” means opening up your story to those nebulous people, but the story isn't about them or what they think. It's asking a hairy “but what if” that never gets answered fully, and doesn't need to be, until it's brought up. The narrator even goes so far as to point out that no one in the Doe family was even thinking about this debate(*). So then the line of reasoning feels out of place, even before we try to assess whether the reasoning is correct.
*I get that Neela really likes doing the whole “and that’s not actually the story I’m here to tell”, but I think that kind of format works with the “spaghetti incident” style trope, where the referenced punchline is semi-obvious and light-hearted (like with Chopper sleeping curled up around his marbles, Opelucid’s trick or treat backstory).
In a handshakey sort of intro to an anthology, it feels a lot like if I opened a meeting with “I definitely didn't put my toenail clippings in the office coffee pot just now. If anyone *didn't* like toenails, they could always quit, but that's neither here nor there”. No one was really expecting toenails in the coffee before, but they probably are thinking about it now, and that detracts from the broader point, which is that I made a lovely pot of coffee. And the anti-toenail crew probably hasn't changed their minds about toenails in communal foods, because my statement dismissed their concerns instead of addressing them.
In a story sense it feels a lot like a corollary to show/don't tell–you show a world that treats its pokemon characters fairly and with compassion, and I think that's a lot more important, relevant, and convincing than telling readers that there's a definitive scoop on a debate that no one in the story is having (except for that one chapter, where the debate is equally one-sided). Maybe this paragraph was in response to fuddy-duddies like me, and tbh, just–as someone whose entire journeyfic got derailed by pokemon ethics, it would take a lot longer than this paragraph to convince me broadly that there's *no arguable* bad outcomes of having giftable sentient people. To convince me that a specific pokemon/human relationship is wholesome and pure, regardless of the underpinnings of the social conventions they're surrounded by but didn't create, takes a lot less time, and you do accomplish that here. Demonstrating that something does exist is a lot easier and more substantive than proving it doesn't, and tends to lead to more meaningful stories as a result.
I didn’t really deep-dig this for prose, since this story is largely done and dusted, but I really couldn’t parse what was being said here, since James was in kindergarten back then. I think it’s supposed to be the difference between “[enrolled] in kindergarten” and “in kindergarten [class at this exact moment in time, when he is in fact on winter break and will soon return to kindergarten]”. If so, I think it’d be more clear to say “He had just finished his first semester of kindergarten a few days before, and kids act stupid at ages well past that.” or something
The chill in the basement had grown stronger in the past week, to the point where the Dragon-type had skipped a few meals because of how arduous the trek up and down the steps had become… along a few baths
That time, John’s Whirlipede rolled out for the occasion, with a set of black-and-green plates and a dab of red paint. He hailed Jane’s Cubone and Herdier who had already been waiting alongside her. The Ground-type dressed up with a black, pointed hat with a brim and frayed black cape and some reeds taped around the bottom of her club to make it look like a broom, while the Grass-type sported a paper crown with a dash of purple cloth draped around his shoulder.
I wasn’t sure who the Grass-type was here–Whirlipede, Cubone, and Herdier are the only ones mentioned so far. I figured Herdier was supposed to be Deerling, since these are Jane’s pokemon?
“along with a few baths”
world
I think one of the strongest areas of this story was the worldbuilding–makes sense, too, for a story that’s got a location in its name! I think you had some cute portrayals of Unovan culture mixed in with game nods, felt like there was some loving pulls from various bits of lore. I liked the concept of Trainers’ Leave, which felt very natural both in the context of the pokemon world and to convey that normal people who don’t go around summoning gods still have an explorative relationship with pokemon. I liked how you kept the scope of the travels small; it makes sense that not every single trainer would make it to champ, but a lot of kids would probably want to try! I also liked how the pokemon they met along the way get loving homes even after the challenge is done; that’s not something I often get to see addressed.
The idea of “any pokemon you catch can be a starter” is also a really fun one, and I liked the additions you made for getting a specific starter from Juniper in exchange for totally lying on your book report and filling in whatever you want in the pokedex. Especially in the context of John’s very Factual report on druddigon, I can entirely see how the pokemon world is full of well-researched, well-informed individuals. And also plushies. I love how there are plushies and the plushies are also even cuter than our plushies, lmao.
I think you breathed a lot of life into Icirrus, which is normally kinda forgotten in favor of Dragonspiral Tower imo? I thought the windmill bits were cute, I liked the feeling of the expanding town as Carol starts to move in and talk about all these new things (feels a bit like living in the boonies and then meeting your new classmate from the town). I don’t think you really had to but i liked the implications of the historical ties for Halloween, with people showing up to try their strength at gyms gradually becoming having festivals there–feels like a realistic role for them to serve. I also really liked the Opelucid merch, the paperweight that Neela’s unimpressed with, the t-shirt that becomes a family staple–those last ones are kinda more character details, but I liked how those ended up dovetailing really nicely into one another.
I think my favorite detail is the recurring theme of the Dragonspiral Tower inhabitants being really protective of every single pebble. It’s kind of distinctly alien, but at the same time I’m reminded of the desert rangers I’ve encountered–some places are timeless and have no natural erosion; your footprints will stay for years and your trash will stay for centuries, sort of thing. Pokemon for me is all about recapturing that feeling of exploring new frontiers, meeting new people–so I think I’m always drawn to those little details where worlds brush up against one another.
jk lmao i’m always drawn to the little details that involve cubone getting a cute hat, pov it’s halloween and you’ve just put out a fresh bucket of candy
All in all I thought this was delightfully slice-of-lifey, and had a nice time reading things! Thanks for sharing, and congrats for finishing (again)
Hey everybody, hitting up the next spot on my review response train of “fic I doubt I’ll ever update again” well, maybe, I suppose I did have an idea for a ‘Brycen B-Movie Night’ Extra prior to doing the post-Epilogue 2-parter that is technically still floating around, which would be the rewrite of my first fic ever that didn’t poof out of existence with a dead hard drive.
There was a lot of meat on the reviews I got this year, so let’s just jump in and get cracking:
Hello again Fobbie. I’ve been getting pretty burned out on doing reviews for the Blitz, so I needed something in my comfort zone to get through the last few days of this. Gonna check this out as my final stop (at least, I hope it is. I’m pretty tired.)
Huh. Didn’t realize that you also read trainerverse stuff unless that was meant to be something out of your comfort zone, but either way, thanks for stopping by on this story. It has a tendency to slide under the radar a bit, so it means a lot whenever I get feedback for it.
But anyway - I have no knowledge of any of your fics that aren’t your main two, so I went into this completely blind thinking it was some kind of mystery involving dragons living in and around Dragonspiral’s Tower. Instead, it’s more slice of life-esque about parents getting their kids a Druddigon for Christmas, with all the predictable hijinx that ensue from that.
Overall, this is pretty cute - almost killing a Tranquill aside, of course. The narrator being somewhat sardonic about the whole ordeal is an interesting touch. Even more so is the whole mystery of who the narrator even is. Could be one of the parents. Could be Neela herself. Could even be a different dragon from the tower, who’s telling this story like we’re both sitting at the campfire, just sharing stories we’ve heard with each other.
Yeah, even if it’s not what I’m most known for as an author these days, slice of life is where I got my start, and I still dabble with it every now and then. Though glad to hear that you seemed to be enjoying it thus far.
Plus, there’s something particularly funny about watching kids treat a dragon like they’re a little yappy dog who doesn’t want to get up. A dragon that clearly has more intelligence than the average house pet, at that. A lot of the fic so far has been the kids being really stupid with the way they’re handling Neela, and Neela herself not being particularly fond of that. Her self aware reactions do sell the chemistry between the kids and her quite well.
I mean, this story would get a bit boring if it was all about kids failing at interacting with Pokémon, but I suppose that’ll be a story for if/when you come back to things. ^^
And yeah, it’ll be interesting to see what direction the story goes in from here. Since Dragonspiral Tower isn’t too far away in universe, I wonder if something more happens should they decide to go over there… of course, it can stay as a slice of life as well, where the kids learn to treat Pokemon right. Not sure, can’t say I have a big grip on where this fic is going to, narratively speaking.
But I’ll avoid spoiling the surprise and let you get there when you get there.
One complaint I do have with this fic is that the narrator is a bit too on the nose sometimes when they’re explaining things - quite a few things were implied perfectly fine by the dialogue alone, and I didn’t think the commentary offered by the narrator always had that silly punch to it that makes commenting on it worth it. If you’d ever return to this fic to re edit it/attempt a story with a similar style of narration, that’s the main thing I’d keep an eye on.
Alas, I’m probably going to be leaving this story as-is, but if you have a few spots that particularly stuck out to you as prime offenders, feel free to shoot me a DM pointing them out. If they’re relatively straightforward to tweak, I think that I might be able to attempt some tidying up sometime before Dragonspiral’s Children (re-redux) releases half past never. ^^;
But yeah, I can’t say I disliked, or even had any major problems with the content I read. It’s a fun little fic you’ve got going here, and given that it’s not very long, I might just return to it in the future… provided that I’m not too busy with other fics, like Fledglings. I’ve still got a hell of a lot of Fledglings to catch up with.
If you do, I’ll be looking forward to what you have to say. Since even if it’s not my main priority, this story has been dear to my heart for a long, long while, enough so that I essentially rewrote it from the ground up to do it justice, so it makes that once in a blue moon when I actually get feedback all the more of an event.
Hiya, here for Catnip. Noticed you’ve been leaving some really nice Blitz review for folks the past few years, and this is a nice and cozy story, so I read a lil extra, on the house–this is a review from Prologue to Epilogue. I did end up reading the Trick or Treat Extra, though I did not read the two post-Epilogue extras.
I honestly was really floored to see how much you covered here, since I honestly wasn’t expecting anything past the Prologue and I honestly feel kinda bad that I only got through one oneshot of yours during Review Blitz in return, but thanks for taking the time to go through so much of the story.
I thought the title of this was really apt–it’s kind of evocative and mysterious at first glance, but it’s quite fitting. This is a story about growing up around the tower, and you’ve put a lot of love into worldbuilding around Icirrus and Unova at large that I think really helps sell the story. I think the narrowness of the setting really does you a lot of favors; for all the time I’ve spent looking at Unova I rarely see anything done with druddigon or mienshao, so to see them both getting some deep worldbuilding/species development was quite a treat.
I mean, it helps that winged agama was and still is one of my favorite dragonmons. Sure, half the stuff in this story might wind up getting jossed by a hypothetical Legends: Kyurem in a couple years, but yeah. It just felt like there was a story behind why the decrepit tower crawling with the very specific species mix of ghost robots and weasels and dragons that are very clearly outside their natural environs, and it felt like there was a story to be told about both them and the people that live in spitting distance of them.
Structurally, I recently watched Pokemon Concierge with some friends, and I’m reminded a lot of what I liked about that setup once it started hitting its more episodic formats–we get to see the ups and downs of pokemon and humans, the little misunderstandings and moments that form a delightful relationship. Each of your chapters feels a little monster-of-the-week, except in this case the monster is some sort of lightly comedic misunderstanding, and I think that made for a nice framing device. You get to get to the core of what makes the relationships delightfully awkward but full of love in a low-stakes setting, so the distilled human/pokemon interactions really get front stage here. There’s a lot of cozy moments and the best part is easily that Neela gets a heated blanket, this is an absolutely based decision, good job everyone, we can go home now.
Glad to hear that the format vibed well with you. Once upon a time, Dragonspiral’s Children was a three-parter where about 70% of the content that you read was crammed into about 15,000 words. Sounds like slowing down and fleshing different sections out in a bit more depth was definitely the right call for making those events a bit more enjoyable to take in.
It took me up until here to realize when Mr. Doe is saying he’s got one of the smoother skin ones, it’s literally that Neela doesn’t have Rough Skin as an ability; I sort of thought he was just making up random bullshit to try to calm down Mrs. Doe. Except … Druddigon that don’t have Rough Skin have Sheer Force (or Mold Breaker?) so. “Easier to take care of” is probably still a bit of a stretch, though I guess at that point everything is subjective lol, it all worked out in the end.
I mean, yes, but at least Neela was more child-friendly to pet? ^^;
Heh. I also liked how the Does are the generic family, Jane and John Doe, sort of thing, but given that the only other surnamed character is from Opelucid and loves dragons and is named wyvern (her parents. did they know?), I’m kind of tickled to imagine that Doe is a pun on the local deerling/sawsbuck that get occasional mention. Makes a lot of sense in a world where every type specialist manages to be born with the correct name, lol.
Oh, I’m certain that either Carol’s mom or dad had a funny when it came time to pick out their baby’s name after looking at their surname and their immediate neighborhood.
I mean, yeah, it was a bit lazy and cosmically improbable like the family literally being placeholder names, but it was cute, so Imma stand by it.
I also liked the bookends of Neela comforting the cubone the first night Jane brought her home, vs grown up Marowak being the first to break the ice when Neela’s brooding.
Yeah, that’s definitely a benefit of this being the rewrite and not the original story, since that cute little bookend moment actually didn’t exist in the v1 of Dragonspiral’s Children. Glad to hear that you liked it, though. ^^
These types of stories really thrive on the strengths of their characters, and even moreso with the heavy focus on pokemon/human relationships. I really like how you frame a lot of their interactions as no-fault, learning sort of experiences where both parties stand to change a little. It makes for a more fair-seeming world, and it also adds a nice little narrative complexity beyond “lmao pokemon stupid” or “lmao human stupid”. I also like how a lot of the moments are largely calm, devoid of conflict–we can’t be learning all the time; sometimes the only thing we learn is that bread is delicious.
I mean, the goal of the story was basically to show off a basic, average family of NPCs and their somewhat unusual ‘mon growing up with each other, so it only felt natural that both sides would stumble and make strides forward a bit. Though glad to hear that the dynamic sat well with you.
I thought the choice to tell this with a large family is clever. The Doe parents seem to run the typical beleaguered mother/laissez-faire father, but I liked how they got little bits of characterization–Mrs. Doe has some good parenting advice for Neela; Mr. Doe has some great parenting moments with his kids. I think the mentoring bits were my favorite from both parents, as it showed a very tender relationship between their family (especially when the kids themselves are, still learning, how to treat each other with kindness, as kids often do lol) but also implied a really tender relationship with the world. It’s nice to see parental figures actively teaching their kids to be curious and empathetic, Mr. Doe framing Neela’s distress about going outside in a way that would make sense to James, Mrs. Doe helping with the electric blanket. I think you get a lot of mileage out of the slice-of-life shenanigans by having the kids run around and scrape their knees outside of the home, so to speak, but it’s nice that they’ve got a solid place to return to.
Honestly, I’m not sure how much of that was consciously planned and how much of that just happened or was the result of @Venia Silente nudging me during beta reading. Most of this story was just premised around “what are things that a basic, average-ish family in Icirrus might encounter in their lives and how would they react to it” and ran with it. ^^;
I also really liked how you characterized Neela and the dragons in general–she and Chopper seem similar in nature, for example, the same love for marbles and shiny candy (but no play! only look), but different personalities. They hoarddd! I liked how Neela’s base instinct is just to sit on top of things; it adds some levity every time it happens but it also does feel like something she’d realistically want to be doing.
I mean, sure it was a bit stereotypical for dragonmons, but it was also bait for cute and funny moments which clearly hit the mark for you, so good enough.
I wasn’t expecting to see everyone grow up over the course of the fic, but I liked the evolving dynamics there and thought that was a clever choice. The seasons change; the kids go to college. It’s a nice backdrop in a story about learning and growth, and I also think it’s fun to compare the Doe kids–who are changing dramatically physically/mentally across the story–with Neela, who seems a lot more laid back from the start. Yet despite the lack of obvious Neela changes, no evolution etc, I do like the more subtle characterization she gets, especially in the Halloween and Rufus/Rudd chapters. The Halloween one is a lot of frankly adorable handmade pokemon costumes, but buried in that is Neela’s sense of duty, fear of missing out every year as everyone else does this fun thing because they’re unaffected by the weather like she is. Sometimes the hardest thing about not doing a thing is realizing how much you would’ve liked it if you’d just gone, and that’s a really raw sentiment to convey in slice-of-life haha. I also really liked the bits where she’s taking her kids outside for the first time and lambasting them for not knowing things–and then realizing she’s not taught them. Reminds me a lot about the tension that immigrant children share with their parents, how the kids have a whole new set of learned experiences but also don’t have a lot of things their parents always had. And I like how quickly Neela’s able to piece that together and pivot her approach–it’s true, moving your home means giving up a lot of the things you had, but there’s still a wide world to experience.
Yeah, the whole seasonal dynamic was a very v2 thing, since I figured very early on while starting to rewrite this story that things were going to get a bit chunky, and figured that the Unovagames made a big deal out of there being distinct seasons, and it’d make a decent thematic parallel for the process of the Does and their Pokémon growing up.
Though glad to hear that Neela’s characterization came through for you. That was definitely an advantage of giving the narration more of a voice than in the v1, since due to the language constraints this story rolled with, that’s one of the primary vectors for showing off how Neela ticks.
I also thought Carol was incredibly based. Admittedly I think she gets a bit more character development than the Doe kids, which I didn’t mind at all. Like with the parents I think it’s helpful to have a more grounded/knowledgeable individual around for the shenanigans, and while Carol has to learn a lot of things she at least understands how to treat dragons respectfully. I like how Neela takes some of those lessons moving forward–kids can be bribed with shiny things!
I mean, it helps that Carol's a really old character from my writing background, so there was a pretty deep well where I could turn to guide her characterization. It admittedly wasn't the intent for her to edge out the Doe kids for development, but I suppose that's something to worry about for the day that Dragonspiral's Children (re-redux) becomes more than just an idle hypothetical.
I think initially the narrative framing device reminded me a lot of Princess Bride or A Christmas Story, especially with the old codger fondly reminiscing about an idyllic childhood fantasy Christmas. I thought it was pretty cute, and the ultimate choice of narrator is one that I think was pretty fitting for telling the story of Dragonspiral’s children, so to speak.
That’s more or less what I was going for for a narrative style. I should probably try to do another story with it one of these days, even if I haven’t yet found the another premise that’s really struck me as being a good fit for it.
I ended up suspecting pretty early that the narrator was Neela|disguise.spoiler.length, so even though the Epilogue pokes fun at the whole thing not being mysterious, I wasn’t entirely sure what the payoff for keeping their identity secret was. And like, I really love atypical narrative framing devices, so I spent a lot of time trying to root cause things–acknowledging that this is probably not something you’re intending to edit any time soon, and mostly just pitching ideas for next time.
Broadly I’m curious what your main goal in having the narrator’s identity at-best obliquely hinted at via context clues, at most actively obfuscated (as they refer to themselves in third person)--I think there are scenarios where those work! But typically it’s like, a dramatic, I don’t want to be the person I was any more, I’ve changed so much and I’m borderline ashamed/disjoint/deadnamed from the person I used to be, which wasn’t the vibe I got from the narrator at all. I think for a shorter-form story it also works, where you don’t have to run into so many scenarios where it wouldn’t make sense for the narrator to tip their hand a little more. Or, alternatively, I think this is a trope that works a lot more in visual media–in the movies I mentioned above, the narrator plays a functionally similar role, but diminished, role to other characters, in that movie characters have a voice and a visual, and the narrator can at least do voiceover. But in writing, narrators inform tone and basically end up also serving the role of the camera, as they curate and inform the things we get to see–it’s a lot larger of a role than the rest of the characters, even moreso in first person narration (which is typically expected to be a more intimate/assumed “close” headspace). Neela is the one responsible for deciding what events get told, and quite literally brings up a bunch of events that could’ve also been told but get cut for time–but I think the narration would’ve benefited from a closer, less mysterious read on the narrator.
Okay, so this whole attempt at a “mystery of the narrator” is an artifact of how once upon a time back in the v1, this story genuinely aimed to try and keep the narrator mysterious up until the end. Which while doing the rewrite where 15,000 words wound up becoming 60,000 before factoring the extras in… yeah, it became really obvious that there would be more than enough little cues for most readers to suss out that it was Neela, but I didn’t feel like trying to re-invent the wheel for a presentation. So I decided to just acknowledge that at the end and call it a dayl.
You do raise a fair point, though. Perhaps if I ever write a Dragonspiral’s Children (re-redux) in a decade or so, I’ll skip beating around the bush regarding Neela’s identity, but that’s a decision to mull for then and not now.
Oftentimes part of the confusion for me is that it feels like the narrator is intentionally trying to act omniscient, and I didn’t understand what they were aiming for there–this works in a metanarrative where someone is talking about removed characters, but it’s kind of weird to see it in a metanarrative where the narrator was literally there the whole time. Were they making up how these people felt? Were they making assumptions based on unshown/offscreen conversations? Why does the story they’re told make more sense told through someone else’s assumed/guessed emotions than their own? The omniscient bits are often informed by context clues, but I struggled to see why the narrator would want to remove themself from the narrative so strongly that they are describing internal/personal thoughts of a different character as if it’s objective fact:
Though I think where this was most confusing for me was [idk, I’m really committing to this spoiler bit] when Neela chooses to de-translate her own words to “Druddigon Druddigon”, as well as the other pokemon she’s conversing with. I didn’t really understand what the narrative value of that ends up being–presumably if she’s telling this story to someone, she’s speaking to someone who is able to understand the meaning of her words beyond “Druddigon Druddigon”. And there’s even mentions earlier in the story about how pokemon who are less accustomed to humans won’t be able to understand human speech very well, and Duke isn’t there to translate all the time, so is Neela just embellishing those bits of dialogue but choosing to encrypt her own?
I think this bit really stood out to me when Chopper returns home and Neela introduces the kids to him. This feels like a pretty emotionally heavy moment, the narrator (who is also Neela) is describing tears and trepidation, there’s a lot of things being literally said between them in the moment, but all the dialogue is just syllables.
This was an artifact of the whole “mysterious narrator” angle from the v1 trying to ape those movies with voiceovers over stuff happening on-screen kinda like the film version of Black Beauty. Perhaps a bit too much for a written medium, but eh. I tried.
Ultimately this feels like something that would work better in a visual media–in film it’d make sense that there could be voiceover interspersed with literal footage of what’s currently happening, and it’s on the audience to not be able to understand Neela (though idk how she’d even be narrating the voiceover). Plus, I think the varying inflection of “Gon gon” or whatever comes across a lot more clearly with voice actors than it does in text; you still have to end up adding a lot of “the druddigon growled” or whatever to imply a certain emotion.
Yeeeeeah, this is something that I’ll probably just leave alone to live with since it’d require quite a few changes to overhaul properly, enough to justify writing a v3 of the story. Though I definitely understand where the criticism is coming from, even if I’m unsure just what my solution would be since doing a straight-up language perspective flip would leave a lot on the table in a different way.
I like the broad strokes of the xeno, and again I think Neela’s a good narrator for this, but I also got lost on some of the details. She struggles with the word ‘anniversary’ and treats it like a made up word, which, fair. But she also struggles with the word ‘moving’ (when referring to moving homes)--
[...]
Which i guess felt really contrived since she understand the word ‘moved’ just fine, and even ‘moved in’--I don’t really know why this would trip her up specifically either tbh.
Okay, this part at least, I can tweak easily. I went and removed the “trip-up” aspect of this part of her narration, which hopefully makes things read a bit more smoothly.
I also didn’t find the detached narration super compelling, since they’re trying so hard to be omniscient that they end up retelling a lot of things that are implied in context. The info conveyed by the narrator:
[...]
So the added info by the narrator is that Jane is there too I guess, and the visual cue of eye-rolling, but I’m not really sure if it adds much. In a story about tender relationships between various individuals, it feels like a missed opportunity for the narrator to (I guess intentionally) be trying to de-emotion/distance their narration from the events as much as possible. The emotional bits are told almost entirely through the dialogue, which can be sparse sometimes, but the narration doesn’t do much to support it because the narrator is so busy trying to hide which character they are and how they feel about the whole thing.
Yeah, alas. I suppose that’s something that I’d change if I ever did a version of this story that was just open about Neela being the narrator from the jump, but that’s a ways down the road if it ever comes to pass.
And I guess I’m not even sure how committed the mystery bit ends up being–I thought it was pretty obvious (and the point) that the narrator was there the whole time (or just making up a bunch more stuff ig):
[...]
Ultimately–I think it’s a clever framing device for this setting, makes sense that you’d want to use this narrator–but I think a lot of those reasonings, ironically, get a little buried in the obfuscation. I think it might work better as a more literal framing device–the bookend/scene-setting narration worked well to set the mood/tone of things, imo, and didn’t run into a lot of the narrative confusion cropped up more prevalently in the actual body of the story.
Yeah, I’ll definitely keep this one in mind for if that day ever comes when Dragonspiral’s Children (re-redux) is a thing.
For the most part I was reading this as a cute slice-of-life, small scope, the lessons learned are that basements are cold and Dragon Con is cool, the flaws we have that incite these conflicts are personal anxiety and being short in a crowd of tall people, sort of thing. I found the Plasma chapter a little out of left field as a result. The “conflicts” (in a very loose, low-stakes sense) that I identified in each chapter were:
(0) Mr. Does gets a new family pokemon without consulting Mrs. Doe. The kids fight briefly over their new gift.
(1) Neela doesn’t want to go outside because it’s cold. Neela doesn’t understand how playing with stuffed animals works. Neela doesn’t understand how babysitting works. Neela doesn’t understand that you can’t eat owned pokemon. The kids don’t understand “leave no trace”. James is bad at making aesthetic bread.
(2) John tries to sneak Neela into school. John tries to skip out on doing his homework. Mrs. Doe doesn’t like bugs. Jane makes an irresponsible trade. Cubone is loud.
(3) A new neighbor shows up. Neela is possessive over Jane’s badge. Chopper climbs too high for his tiny stubby legs. The gang likes sunsets.
(4) Neela is too big for the pool. Neela and Chopper get lost at dragon con. There’s a snooty trainer at dragon con.
(E) Neela is afraid to go trick or treating. Haunted houses are scary.
(5) Team Plasma commits acts of terror on national television by blowing up a millenia-old sacred monument and summoning one of two principal gods in Unova. Team Plasma assaults a bunch of Neela’s friends and causes them grievous harm, in the process also damaging her home. James faces the moral question of if it’s ethical to own your friends.
(6) John goes to college. Chopper is sad that he’s going to college.
(7) Neela is cold. Neela struggles to entrust her eggs to the Does.
(8) Neela’s kids are rambunctious. Neela’s kids are not rambunctious enough. Chopper has been an absentee father.
For me (5) is a huge departure in scope that didn’t quite feel built up to compared to the rest of the story–watching Dragonspiral Tower vandalism on TV feels like watching the beginnings of a war, or some awful terrorism event. I get that the kids kind of aren’t really old enough to get it fully, and suddenly awful things are a part of growing up. I also think stories are typically told with an internal structure, and this is one of those things that you’d probably want to build to more properly if you wanted to build to it–which makes sense, it’s a story about pokemon and humans living in Unova.
I think that what I was going for in Part 5 was basically exploring how “normies” would take being blindsided by events much in the same way how people in real life inevitably wind up having history intersect with their own lives in various seasons, in ways that seem sudden that are often disruptive or traumatic even if they’re not directly involved.
The whole saga with Team Plasma felt like a decent enough candidate for that since even if the games swept most of the fallout under the rug (and the fic itself de-emphasizes B2W2’s events in favor of drama closer to home), that it’d have an effect on people living in and around Unova.
I suppose that I do understand the argument behind foreshadowing thing a bit more, even if I’m a bit light on ideas of how I’d implement that at the moment.
I think identifiably the real hiccup for me is in the inciting incident/framing–there are other heavy/heartwarming moments in the story, Chopper doesn’t break his ball and stays with Carol, Neela chooses to move her den upstairs. These were also heavy drama, but to me they feel less out of place because the conflict is being instigated by the main cast–it’s Chopper’s grief and indecision that drives him to run away; it’s Neela’s brooding instincts that lead her to isolate herself from the rest of the family. These feel like sized-up versions of previous conflicts, folks have grown a little from “Neela doesn’t understand how babysitting works” but the call’s coming from inside of the house, so to speak, which I think works in a slice-of-life story.
Notably, (5) represents a big departure from this trend–the stakes are bigger, but also the instigator of “X causes thing” is someone we’ve never heard of before. This chapter has to introduce their motivations, but the narrator’s not super interested in delving into those so we don’t really know what they’re after. But the resolution follows the same pattern–the kids figure it out on their own and come to a heartfelt conclusion that involves them growing up a little as people and also giving out nice hugs. But that kind of conflict resolution doesn’t quite feel complete, or matching in scope, to the inciting incidents, which already feel out of place in the story–so things there never quite feel resolved.
Hrm. I guess the main thing that I was going for was more the more personal aftereffects that the big, disruptive event had on the lives of the characters and attempting to come to a resolution to that. Doesn’t sound like it fully came through, but this is probably one of those flaws that I’m just going to live with in the end until if/when I can ever be bothered to do a v3 of this tale.
I’m not entirely sure I followed the argument here: in a broader context, the primary issue people have with being objectified is that they don't want to be treated like objects–they’re mad that they're getting lesser treatment than everyone else for something outside of their control. And people in unfair situations are often aware they could -technically- simply disengage, but don't want to, since no one else has to/they have things at stake they can't give up/sometimes actually they can't leave. And then within the context of the story, the very next conflict involves Neela being able to go outside during the winter without entering a comatose state, which, while not permanently harming her, suggests that she'd be very much unable to select the “leaving” option if it came to voting with her feet for a quarter of her life.
I'm also not sure if there's a feasible, society-wide counterargument against the idea that broadly using certain individuals as gifts could never be even “connect[ed]” to objectifying, because the basis of being objectified is to be treated as an object, and the act of gifting something inherently means treating it like an object. I just also don't think that such a counterargument matters to your story–the spirit of it felt like a warm and cozy slice-of-life fic, not a philosophical lens on social equality. “What does it really mean to be objectified, could it actually be okay, and is my entire society free from injustice?” feels much less what you wanted to write about than “do Neela and the Does have a loving relationship?”
I might try to play around with rewording this, but I was shooting a bit more for more of a biased “some others find this off-putting and demeaning, but I didn’t really question it since it worked out for me”. Like there’s certainly Pokémon out there who were put in Neela’s position that didn’t have things work out nicely for them, and the story attempted to acknowledge that gray area to an extent.
Which again, I suppose might dovetail into that whole “philosophical lens” being a bit out of place with the story in general. Could be partly a bit of an overcorrection to the way some things went down in the v1, which after revisiting things after writing PMD stories for 6 years prior to this rewrite struck me as a bit “wow, that was thoughtless and at odds with the ‘family and friendship’ vibe I wanted” when I took a good second look at them.
And the answer to the second question is a resounding yes imo–it’s abundantly clear that the Does respect Neela and take her considerations into account, Mr. Doe is careful to teach his kids to empathize with her even when it means telling them to challenge their own norms, etc. It's a slice-of-life story about a loving family of six, and I think the scope of the genre really revolves around how these people treat one another. Opening it up to “[some people produce] some debate” means opening up your story to those nebulous people, but the story isn't about them or what they think. It's asking a hairy “but what if” that never gets answered fully, and doesn't need to be, until it's brought up. The narrator even goes so far as to point out that no one in the Doe family was even thinking about this debate(*). So then the line of reasoning feels out of place, even before we try to assess whether the reasoning is correct.
*I get that Neela really likes doing the whole “and that’s not actually the story I’m here to tell”, but I think that kind of format works with the “spaghetti incident” style trope, where the referenced punchline is semi-obvious and light-hearted (like with Chopper sleeping curled up around his marbles, Opelucid’s trick or treat backstory).
Hrm. I suppose I can see the argument, even if there was intended to be a bit of acknowledgement that there’s a “gray area” to training where not everything is always as it should be (e.x. Chopper getting stuck in the position he does in Part 6), with the more “loving relationship” aspects of training being the main determinant of how well those gray areas can be worked around or not when they inevitably pop up in life.
In a handshakey sort of intro to an anthology, it feels a lot like if I opened a meeting with “I definitely didn't put my toenail clippings in the office coffee pot just now. If anyone *didn't* like toenails, they could always quit, but that's neither here nor there”. No one was really expecting toenails in the coffee before, but they probably are thinking about it now, and that detracts from the broader point, which is that I made a lovely pot of coffee. And the anti-toenail crew probably hasn't changed their minds about toenails in communal foods, because my statement dismissed their concerns instead of addressing them.
In a story sense it feels a lot like a corollary to show/don't tell–you show a world that treats its pokemon characters fairly and with compassion, and I think that's a lot more important, relevant, and convincing than telling readers that there's a definitive scoop on a debate that no one in the story is having (except for that one chapter, where the debate is equally one-sided). Maybe this paragraph was in response to fuddy-duddies like me, and tbh, just–as someone whose entire journeyfic got derailed by pokemon ethics, it would take a lot longer than this paragraph to convince me broadly that there's *no arguable* bad outcomes of having giftable sentient people. To convince me that a specific pokemon/human relationship is wholesome and pure, regardless of the underpinnings of the social conventions they're surrounded by but didn't create, takes a lot less time, and you do accomplish that here. Demonstrating that something does exist is a lot easier and more substantive than proving it doesn't, and tends to lead to more meaningful stories as a result.
Yeeeeeah, that wasn’t quite what I was aiming for since Neela’s statement wasn’t intended to be a definitive “it’s totally alright, guys” thing. Admittedly I’m a bit unsure whether or not I’d airbrush it entirely, but I might try to play around with some tweaks to the nuance of her commentary in this part if inspiration strikes me.
I didn’t really deep-dig this for prose, since this story is largely done and dusted, but I really couldn’t parse what was being said here, since James was in kindergarten back then. I think it’s supposed to be the difference between “[enrolled] in kindergarten” and “in kindergarten [class at this exact moment in time, when he is in fact on winter break and will soon return to kindergarten]”. If so, I think it’d be more clear to say “He had just finished his first semester of kindergarten a few days before, and kids act stupid at ages well past that.” or something
I think that suggestion works quite well, actually. I dropped that in along with the other fixes that you outlined in the following comments.
I think one of the strongest areas of this story was the worldbuilding–makes sense, too, for a story that’s got a location in its name! I think you had some cute portrayals of Unovan culture mixed in with game nods, felt like there was some loving pulls from various bits of lore. I liked the concept of Trainers’ Leave, which felt very natural both in the context of the pokemon world and to convey that normal people who don’t go around summoning gods still have an explorative relationship with pokemon. I liked how you kept the scope of the travels small; it makes sense that not every single trainer would make it to champ, but a lot of kids would probably want to try! I also liked how the pokemon they met along the way get loving homes even after the challenge is done; that’s not something I often get to see addressed.
I mean, it helps that even in its original, janky incarnation submitted to ye olde timey Serebii Contest of yore, this story was basically built to show off my interpretation of how Pokéworld would work. I suppose going hard on worldbuilding is kinda a trend with most of my writing, but I’m glad that you found my take of what life for some of the faceless randos who aren’t the PC might look like to be convincing.
The idea of “any pokemon you catch can be a starter” is also a really fun one, and I liked the additions you made for getting a specific starter from Juniper in exchange for totally lying on your book report and filling in whatever you want in the pokedex. Especially in the context of John’s very Factual report on druddigon, I can entirely see how the pokemon world is full of well-researched, well-informed individuals. And also plushies. I love how there are plushies and the plushies are also even cuter than our plushies, lmao.
Yeah, those would explain a lot about the things we see of Pokéworld in official media, huh?
I think you breathed a lot of life into Icirrus, which is normally kinda forgotten in favor of Dragonspiral Tower imo? I thought the windmill bits were cute, I liked the feeling of the expanding town as Carol starts to move in and talk about all these new things (feels a bit like living in the boonies and then meeting your new classmate from the town). I don’t think you really had to but i liked the implications of the historical ties for Halloween, with people showing up to try their strength at gyms gradually becoming having festivals there–feels like a realistic role for them to serve. I also really liked the Opelucid merch, the paperweight that Neela’s unimpressed with, the t-shirt that becomes a family staple–those last ones are kinda more character details, but I liked how those ended up dovetailing really nicely into one another.
It’s honestly a bit of a shame that official media doesn’t do more with Icirrus beyond “oh hey, Brycen’s here before going back into movies”, since even before being built in the shadow of a literal divine roost, it does have those windmills just chilling around in the vicinity, which gives it a very distinct atmosphere.
Just about everywhere in Unova’s kinda like that now that I think about it. Since it’s definitely one of the better-differentiated regions out there in terms of how its towns and their environments are designed.
I think my favorite detail is the recurring theme of the Dragonspiral Tower inhabitants being really protective of every single pebble. It’s kind of distinctly alien, but at the same time I’m reminded of the desert rangers I’ve encountered–some places are timeless and have no natural erosion; your footprints will stay for years and your trash will stay for centuries, sort of thing. Pokemon for me is all about recapturing that feeling of exploring new frontiers, meeting new people–so I think I’m always drawn to those little details where worlds brush up against one another.
I mean, it just felt like there was some sort of story behind why three more out-of-place Pokémon populations would just chill together in a shared environment. The take I rolled with was that they were all introduced there for the express purpose of standing guard over Dragonspiral Tower, and it stuck in their cultural memory long after the civilization that built the tower faded away.
Though glad to hear that you had fun with it. It was admittedly going a bit out on a limb from the base canon, but it sounds like it was convincing enough in its execution.
jk lmao i’m always drawn to the little details that involve cubone getting a cute hat, pov it’s halloween and you’ve just put out a fresh bucket of candy
All in all I thought this was delightfully slice-of-lifey, and had a nice time reading things! Thanks for sharing, and congrats for finishing (again)
Wow, you really pulled out all the stops for this review, huh? Thanks a million, the gang looks great there! And the broader review was a lot of fun and very insightful to read.
Thanks again for the reviews, everybody. They actually meant quite a bit to me since I’ve always had a soft spot for this story, so it was a nice surprise to see a decent chunk of it get feedback in this year’s Review Blitz. ^^
Wow, you really pulled out all the stops for this review, huh? Thanks a million, the gang looks great there! And the broader review was a lot of fun and very insightful to read.
listennnnn I will never not love cubone and friends in cute hats!! delightful little world you had here and I'm glad you enjoyed the review <3
some random thoughts I had across the week about your "re: implementation" thoughts. big disclaimer that I found the story very enjoyable regardless and this is more just a lil' spitballing for the v3 you mentioned a bit in your response:
I think that what I was going for in Part 5 was basically exploring how “normies” would take being blindsided by events much in the same way how people in real life inevitably wind up having history intersect with their own lives in various seasons, in ways that seem sudden that are often disruptive or traumatic even if they’re not directly involved.
The whole saga with Team Plasma felt like a decent enough candidate for that since even if the games swept most of the fallout under the rug (and the fic itself de-emphasizes B2W2’s events in favor of drama closer to home), that it’d have an effect on people living in and around Unova.
I suppose that I do understand the argument behind foreshadowing thing a bit more, even if I’m a bit light on ideas of how I’d implement that at the moment.
Yeah, it's a tricky one! Reality is often stranger than fiction when it comes to pacing, mmm.
For me I think there's a couple of dichotomies here that tripped me up a little. Often I think antagonists are:
Minor/brief--villain of the week sort of thing, not liable to cause lasting trauma in the environment
Major/overarching--pose major challenges:
To the setting--big bad guy wants to overhaul the world, and the protagonist happen to be in the way
To the characters--big bad guy has it out for the protagonist specifically, and the world happens to be in the way
Some combination of the above
Plasma here strikes me as most "major villains causing challenges to the setting" on paper--there's the desecration of Dragonspiral Tower, the temporary loss/confusion of Reshiram, the big traumatic TV speeches. They don't ever confront the Does physically (though there's an argument that they provide a moral challenge, getting there), and they feel too lasting for "villain of the week", especially since the closing epilogue is a lot about "nature is healing".
The chapter itself is broken into roughly five parts:
Evolutions (1.7k words)
Big Scary TV 1 (1.0k words) - Plasma as a major villain opposing the setting
The Tower (1.7k words) - aftermath of Plasma as a major villain opposing the setting
Big Scary TV 2 (0.8k words) - Plasma as a major villain opposing the setting, and indirectly opposing the ideals of trainerhood
James Does a Booboo (1.3k words) - aftermath of Plasma as a major villain opposing James
Where I got tripped up is largely that last bit--the switch from the apersonal conflict (Team Plasma vs the setting) being concluded by a personal action (the protagonist's conflict is solved). It's tricky because there's distinct overlap between the two on paper--Plasma is against the setting that allows humans to own pokemon, and the protagonists are intrinsically against that--but I found the connection lacking in practice, because:
There's really very little in the setting for Plasma to be against that's relevant to the protagonists. There's in theory some morally grey stuff, like you mention in the review response, but very little of it happens onscreen.
Tension for the settings/protagonists: what is at stake here? What do the protagonist stand to lose?
I think the major goal I got from Plasma here was that they wanted to end training forever--which is a very arc villain goal in a story about human/pokemon relationships. I just never really bought into those as stakes because they were so much higher than anything else (Neela can't fit in the swimming pool) and weren't set up in a way to make me think this was possible.
The Chase example later is a good example of that grey conflict with minimal fault to the parties involved, but--it happens in circumstances that are only possible after this event, so it's hard to read this chapter first with future stuff in mind, and it happens outside of the Does'/Neela's control anyway.
Goals for the antagonists: What is Plasma empirically against here? They're causing a conflict in a major way but tbh I am not entirely sure what specific things they would be mad about in this incarnation of the setting/events--all trainers? Just Bad Trainers? Ghetsis is actually a megalomaniac?
Are they right to feel this way? If they're right to be mad at something, does the world improve after they leave or does it still stay the same? Do the protagonists then need to be empowered to continue fighting for that better world, with less dramatic measures than Plasma took?
Are they just largely wrong and there is no significant further takeaway or change for the protagonists to have once they hug it out with each other? This puts them closer in villain of the week territory, but then the scale of their actions doesn't really square with that
Obviously I don't think this chapter should end with James punching Team Plasma in the face, but I think there needed to be more structure bridging the gap between Plasma as a villain targeting the setting vs the resolution being James confronting his own self-doubt. I think there are a few ways to do this, spitballing some ideas:
Tension--The idea of "humans should not own pokemon" comes up earlier, so the conflict that Plasma brings inherently feels more personal to the Does, and the outcome of "so the Does can no longer be with Neela" feels believable. Canonically Plasma goes from zero to league-smashing in the span of one person's badgequest, so I get how this got set up, but maybe the ideas they have predate them:
Instead of "some people say it's objectifying to gift pokemon", someone actually shows up a few chapters in (after Neela's established to be treated like a person), and begins lecturing the Does on personhood, how come she's got a pokeball, sorta thing. They are inherently wrong about their accusations towards the Does specifically, but this conflict existing in the world is set up a little earlier.
Maybe there is more tension between Neela and one of the kids doing their training stuff. She's tired of losing to Brycen and it's cold and she really wishes they wouldn't ask her any more. She gets sent out during one of Jane's rematches and just folds her arms and pouts. She storms off and ends up making her way back to the Does' house or something--something to make it clear that she's been asked too much, she refuses to give it, and parts of this relationship aren't working out but she likes other parts of it.
Maybe there is more tension between Neela and the setting at large. Neela actually thinks it's really unfair that she's not allowed to go to school with John, she's not that distracting, and besides it's not really her fault that she looks so cool and awesome. She pouts for a while and they try the cardboard box thing, but on some level it hurts her a bit to realize there are some places in this world she's not allowed; it doesn't actually feel equal. Later the gang goes to Dragonspiral Tower and the human kids aren't allowed in either, and Neela empathizes with them.
Goals--I think it would be helpful to get an idea of what specifically Plasma is against. Personally I like it when antagonists kind of have a Point, but I know how that becomes a whole Thing, so I've kept the ideas a lot less spicy here.
Maybe there are a few bad trainers in the world who should not own pokemon. i.e. the tranquill guy is actually the kind of trainer Plasma is against. Honestly not a stretch imo--his response when his pokemon gets maimed is "Some consolation that is to the trainer who almost lost his Pokémon to that miserable lizard! Just look at what she did to his feathers!"--his primary concern is for himself and the loss he'd feel, not the fact that [from his POV] Tranquill nearly died; his second concern is that his pokemon is [ugly?]. Plasma or some form of activists do go around threatening guys like these.
Maybe Plasma is just empirically overkill to the point that they just don't think it's possible for any ethical relationship to exist, and they show up angrily during the peaceful moments of the story as a result. They picket Dragon Con because they're mad that these dragons got taken from their home and the only way to properly respect them is from a six mile distance with a pair of binoculars. One of the kids in John's class does their presentation on how they don't have a pokemon because owning pokemon is unethical and everyone should be ashamed (this is clearly parroting what their parents said but it's still uncomfortable).
Alternate Resolution--it's tricky because Plasma doesn't get meaningfully confronted by any of the protagonist, and I don't think you want them to be. I think an alternate route, though, and maybe one that is least destructive to the story at large, is to make it so the ch5 antagonist isn't structured to be Plasma--it's James, an antagonist who -can- be resolved by everyone hugging it out. "James Does a Big Booboo" becomes the focus of this chapter as a result, and gets more screentime:
There's still Big TV 1 where we see Plasma making their big scary broadcast.
Duke (I get why it can't be Neela lol) ends up scratching at their door the next day. Huh! How did that happen? Everyone is very confused, Mr. Doe lets Duke back inside. James looks guilty.
Big TV 2 happens. We see James's response. Everyone brushes it off as nothing.
Later, Duke is missing! [maybe] the kids think he's gone off to see the damage to Dragonspiral Tower. That scene plays out largely the same (though tbh I wasn't sure why Neela didn't just go off alone and report back--seems like the pokemon's issue was with the human kids). [maybe] They find Duke wandering around Dragonspiral Tower; he's overjoyed to see them.
That evening, James takes Neela and Duke out to the forest and begs Neela to make Duke understand--they can't own Duke. They're both free! James has been secretly locking Duke out of the house and eventually releasing him further and further away in an attempt to let Duke be free. Why does he keep coming back home? Can't he realize this isn't good for them? James has been trying to work out the courage to do the same to Neela but he keeps getting choked up over it and having flashbacks to all the time they've spent together. Everyone hugs it out.
Yeeeeeah, that wasn’t quite what I was aiming for since Neela’s statement wasn’t intended to be a definitive “it’s totally alright, guys” thing. Admittedly I’m a bit unsure whether or not I’d airbrush it entirely, but I might try to play around with some tweaks to the nuance of her commentary in this part if inspiration strikes me.
I feel you on this one lol. Imo it's less airbrushing and more just, if Neela does acknowledge that pokemon abuse exists, it does get a lot hairier when the Does dismiss Plasma outright. "Are my protagonists ethical if they abide by longterm abuse" is a rough question that quickly becomes the focus of the story--to use a different angle, I wouldn't assume that a character who gets an iPhone for their birthday is a bad person, but if they start going off into a quick fun tangent about child labor and the environmental harm of cobalt mines, but then the rest of the story presents the ownership of electronics as entirely unproblematic, I would start to wonder what the author was getting at there.
