IFBench
Rescue Team Member
- Location
- Pokemon Paradise
- Partners
-
The first 2021 Thousand Roads Exquisite Corpse has been completed, and is now here on the forums for you to read!
Nine parts written by nine authors, each of which only had a couple sentences to go off of. Machoke beatdowns, philosophy, Of Sand And Shadows, and spontaneous evolution are all part of this chaotic mess of a masterpiece.
Here's everyone who participated in this. Thank you all for contributing!
The author for each part is in spoiler tags at the end, so you can have fun guessing who wrote what?
Now, have fun reading!
Part 1:
Brann exhaled deeply, a few loose embers straying from his elongated mouth. He stretched his tiny limbs and closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of magma seep into his bones, relaxing all of his joints, warming the aches in his little spine. That Numel’s headbutt had left him more bruised than he had first thought… He tried to fold his stubby arms behind his oversized head like he saw adults do, but his claws barely even reached his earholes.
He sighed and opened his eyes. The ashy grey sky burned with volcanic fire as lava oozed down the cliffsides, halting at the waters of the pebbly shoreline below. Before his eyes, Brann watched the lava cool and harden, sending up clouds of hissing steam the moment it touched the waters. He knew that, within the volcano’s depths, Magmar, Charizard, and various other Pokemon exulted in the fiery eruption. It was a good day to live in the volcano.
At least, as good as any day, considering he was still stuck in his first form. Brann sighed dolefully as he thought of the large Magmar inhabiting the volcano, of their powerful arms and flaming tails—or of the Magmortar who could shoot balls of fire from their hands.
Brann looked sadly at his little claws. When would it be his turn? The other Magby and Charmander he grew up with had all evolved. He had trained just as hard as they did—even harder! He never backed down and never gave up on his training. Why was he stuck in his little form while everyone else got to grow up? His fire was less potent, his attacks were weaker, he was slower and tired more quickly—his arms weren’t even long enough to fold behind his head!
His eyes fell down to the salty waters reflecting the darkened sky. The flow of lava had slowed and the clouds of steam had ceased. Brann’s thoughts mulled about in his brain as he watched a tall form stumble out of the waters and onto the pebbled shoreline.
Brann sat up, staring straight at the figure, but it did not move again. What was it? He had hardly ever seen anything come out of these waters. Was it an enemy? Someone he needed to fight off—could this be the battle that finally triggered his evolution?
Getting up, Brann hopped into a stream of magma and coursed down the mountainside as quickly as he could (which was not as quick as he’d like). Blood pulsed through his veins as he dashed closer and closer to the creature—it was moving! It propped itself up and—
Brann dashed right up to the creature, pausing only a few meters away. Deep blue eyes set in a gaunt, white face looked curiously at him. Platinum hair fell over her shoulders. She held herself up with one shaking arm while the other clutched at her abdomen. Brann gasped as he noticed two deep gashes stretch over her torso. Apart from her hair and face, her whole body was clad in white scales.
Under the black burning sky, the Magby and the scaled-and-hairy creature stared at each other while the waters lapped the edges of the shore and the volcano oozed magma. Puffing out his chest as much as he could, Brann proclaimed, “Who are you, what are you, and will you fight me?”
Part 2:
Under the black burning sky, the Magby and the scaled-and-hairy creature stared at each other while the waters lapped the edges of the shore and the volcano oozed magma. Puffing out his chest as much as he could, Brann proclaimed, “Who are you, what are you, and will you fight me?”
"Who ... am I?" the creature asked slowly, seeming to mull over each word. "What ... am I?"
Brann watched impatiently, fire and bloodlust curdling in his chest.
The creature tapped its strange limbs against the silver scales that lined its chest. "I am a creature of your legends, child," it said slowly. "Once upon a time, they called me ... well, that no longer matters." Its scales clinked as it stood up, and Brann realized that, from the way they caught the light, those scales couldn't truly be part of it at all, any more than the pockmarks were part of an ember. The creature shifted with another clink. "I believe that answers your first two questions."
"But will you—"
"But will I fight you?" it finished for him, and then huffed again.
Brann couldn't help but notice how long the pauses between its words were. The elder magmar in the volcano spoke in torrents, a steady stream. Even the young magby learned to communicate like spitfire. To pause for too long on these slopes meant to perish. And yet this creature seemed to survive, somehow.
"No," the creature intoned slowly. "I will not."
The fire flared up in him. Brann exhaled a hot stream of smoke, savoring the way it curled around his nostrils and filled him with the familiar scent of flames. "Why not?"
"I am tired of fighting. Once upon a time that was all I wanted. I fought and I fought all who stood in my way. I won. No more." It shifted its weight, and Brann saw the rust that seemed to be eating away at its scales. But rust shouldn't cake into hair like that, not the way that it settled into little maroon ringlets that went all around its head and neck. "I see you are the same."
"I would never tire of fighting," Brann crowed triumphantly, spitting a stream of fire into the beach between them for emphasis.
The stranger's scales glowed brilliantly in the light of the volcano and its hair flickered in the soot-choked breeze as it replied, "That is where I fear the similarity between us lies, little magby."
Part 3:
It took a moment for the words to sink in and another for Brann to realize the stranger wasn't joking. Of course not—the stranger wouldn't know a joke if it bit him. The volcano still warmed Brann's back, an almost maternal comfort, but something about the stranger's expression chilled his insides. He grinned through it, refusing to be spooked by a cagey old dragon, and repeated his mother's words. "Fear is the first enemy we learn to fight, isn't it?" He stuttered over his words, though. It was hard to talk up to someone who towered over him, someone who'd clearly faced so many more battles than he had, scales battle-scarred and bent.
"Perhaps," said the kommo-o, "but not the last." He watched Brann with slitted red eyes as if daring him to say more ... or hoping he wouldn't.
Brann swallowed. "Doesn't look like you've fought your last battle yet."
"True. After all, I'm still alive."
Brann opened his mouth to answer, but only smoke escaped his lips.
In the long span of silence that followed, the kommo-o turned away. His footsteps were heavy, scales jangling, but there was no mistaking them for plodding. The stranger might be old, but there was power and control in his every movement. I have killed before, his steps promised, and I will do so again.
"Then how do you know?" Brann meant it to come out like a challenge, pushing up words from the same place his fire attacks came from, but his voice sounded small even to himself.
The kommo-o stopped to glance back, scales grinding together. "Because the last enemy I face in every fight is the voice that tells me to keep going, to set fire to everything until there's nothing left. And the last voice I fight each night is the one that forced me to stop."
Brann let him go after that. As he watched the stranger disappear down the curve of the hill, he thought, We are not the same. Not at all. When I grow up, I'll be the strongest magmortar there ever was, but I'll never be like you.
But he was wrong.
Part 4:
Brann remained there for many minutes afterwards.
He glanced skywards. The crisp, cool breeze, coupled with the sight of the moon and stars overhead, brought with it a momentary wave of calm.
The Magmar inhaled deeply and held his breath for several seconds. "Fuuuuuuuck." He prolonged his exhale as he spoke this single word.
This was certainly an unexpected night.
He scanned the environment, trying to determine where to go next.
In all directions, it was the same dense forest, blocking any possible knowledge of what dangers may lay ahead.
Brann grumbled something inaudible and set off in a random direction. Better than just staying on that hill.
Many minutes later, he was still in the forest.
All these damn vines tripping me up… swear I'm gonna torch this whole--
He stopped as he heard something. Something that wasn't the call of a wild pokemon, or yet another gods-forsaken branch snapping under his foot.
It was a yell… of a civilized pokemon!
Brann rushed over in the general direction of the sound, and found a… blue Sandslash being attacked by a group of Machoke; four in total.
"Hey!" Brann called, doing his best to sound intimidating.
One of the Machoke turned and sneered at Brann. "Oy, lads, we got ourselves a big 'un!"
The other three Machoke glared at Brann, each one wearing a wicked smile.
"Get 'im!" The first Machoke called, and all four of them leapt into action.
Brann reacted quickly, and punched one of the Machoke square in the jaw. Its head snapped back and it fell, stunned. He risked a glance at the cowering Sandslash. They seemed to be… conscious, barely. His attention was forcibly turned back to the Machoke when he was slugged in the gut. He grunted in pain, but managed to spew flames at his attackers.
Effective. Nice. He thought as his flames caused one other Machoke to panic and crash into a tree.
He wreathed his hands in flames and swung wildly at the Machoke in front of him, being unable to suppress a sadistic grin as each successful hit left a black scorch mark on the Machoke. Brann kept up his onslaught until this one was down.
Good. Three more-- Brann was immediately thrown forward by the force of a punch to the back of his head. He fell on his hands and knees, and could barely recover before he was kicked by a Machoke. He rolled over onto his side and left himself wide open for all three remaining Machoke to pummel him.
Every punch and kick only amplified the pain of the next blow. He attempted to curl up into a ball, but couldn't. He got a punch to the side of the head and immediately tasted blood.
No, no, no… this isn't how it ends. This can't be it! He grew panicked as he was mercilessly beaten.
Just when he thought he was done for, something came hurtling towards one of the Machoke, bowling it over.
The Sandslash! Well enough to fight, apparently.
The other two Machoke gaped in shock and rushed to attack the newly revitalized Sandslash.
Brann struggled to get up; his knees were trembling, and he coughed up a bit of blood. He shut his eyes and focused…
A soft light came from his torso and spread outwards like a ray of sunshine.
Heal Pulse… thanks, Smeargle. Unfortunately, this was a one-time thing. Brann immediately felt most of his injuries healing.
He rushed back into the fray, dragging one Machoke off of the Sandslash and Flamethrower-ing it until it stopped struggling.
Then, he watched as the Sandslash fended off the other two Machoke at once. Damn.
Still, though, Brann felt like he was clearly the hero here, so why not keep helping? He grabbed one Machoke by the shoulders and slammed it to the ground, stomping on its chest until it, too, fell unconscious.
The Magmar looked up in time to see the Sandslash encase the remaining Machoke-- the leader-- in ice.
Brann waited a few seconds before approaching the odd Sandslash. "Hey there, nice fight you put up."
The Sandslash jumped at the sound of Brann's voice. "Huh? Oh, um… thanks," He fidgeted with his claws, looking mighty uncomfortable. "How did you even… find out this was happening?"
"Just dumb luck that I was going this way, I suppose." He hummed thoughtfully. "Say, what kind of trouble were you getting yourself into?"
"Trouble? No, no, I wasn't in any trouble! Or, mm, getting into trouble…? That wasn't what was happening. I was getting picked on by that gang of Machoke. They're pretty notorious for just… fighting whoever they want to fight."
"I see. And this was your first time standing up for yourself?"
"...Yeah."
"Well, that's one hell of a job you did." Brann tilted his head slightly. "I ain't ever seen a Sandslash like you before… what are you, exactly?"
"Wha? Oh, me? I'm an Alolan Sandslash. I thought that was obvious?" The Sandslash said quizzically.
"No, I never heard of any 'Alolan' anything. Hmm. Whatever, I guess."
Then, Mister Smeargle's words echoed in his head… Brann, you'll need all the help you can get.
Brann grunted. "Hey, you, how would you like to go on an adventure with me?"
The Alolan Sandslash was quiet for several seconds. Had he heard the question? Then, he gave a start, and his arm twitched. "Um, were you joking? If you were, I'd really appreciate it if you told me."
"N… No, I wasn't joking."
"Oh! Uh, okay! Then… yeah, I guess I'll come with you." The Sandslash bounced on the balls of his feet, looking a bit excited over the prospect of adventure.
"Nice. Wait, what's your name? I'm Brann Magmar."
"Oh, sorry, I never told you! I'm Eddie Sandslash! Nice to meet you, Brann!"
"Eddie, huh? Not very common 'round here…" Brann put a hand to his chin. Something was very odd about this 'Eddie', and it wasn't just his appearance… "Mm. Well, anyway, suppose we'd best be off right away. You alright with that?"
"Uh? Oh, yes! Yes, I'm fine with that, thank you for asking."
"Great." He took a moment to make sure neither of them were injured in any debilitating way, then nodded. "Let's go."
And with that, Magmar Brann and Alolan Sandslash Eddie set off into the night.
Part 5:
Even if they had been uninjured, traversing the dessert was something neither pokemon was comfortable with. Out here, there was no cover to offer protection from prying eyes. Eddie, in particular, stuck out like a sore claw, moonlight setting his ice-crystal spines aglow. At least the bag partially covered him. Their feet sank into the sandy dunes, slowing their travel even further. If there was one solace, it was that neither felt the biting cold of desert winds.
Only after they had put some distance between themselves, and the old human ruins did they finally feel safe enough to speak. Eddie sidled up beside Brann, matching him step for step.
“Okay,” he began, running his question through his mind, “we need to talk.”
Brann kept his gaze on the dunes ahead of them. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
Eddie stopped in his tracks. His expression twisted from tired to enraged. He ran to catch up again, grabbing the magmar by the shoulder, and spun him around so they were face to face. “Nothing to talk about? Damn it, Brann, you can’t just ignore what happened back there! We could have died! Out here in this gods-forsaken dessert! And for what, a bit of loot?”
The magmar’s expression soured. “It was more than a bit of loot!” Brann insisted. “Look at it what we found. Actual human artifacts, relics of an era gone by. Do you have any idea how important this is going to be back home? We may finally have definitive proof of what happened here all those years ago. The incident that wiped out all human life!”
“And what good will it do if we get killed out here by those twisted beasts? I mean, have you ever seen any pokemon act like that? They were so vicious! That’s not normal. It isn’t safe here.”
Brann let out a long breath, closing his eyes. Then he reached up to put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “…You’re right. It is dangerous out here. But that’s all the more reason for us to get these findings back home. See…” There was a long pause as he down, as if thinking.
“…Okay, here it goes.” Brann looked back up, staring the icy sandslash in the eye. “The truth is… I think this area, where we’ve been looking for human goods… I think this is where everything started. And if we can prove that… We’ll be one step closer to making our world safe.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Just spit it out already!”
The magmar took another long breath his gaze focused on the sandy dunes. “Eddie… you ever hear the legends about a place called Orre?”
Part 6:
"No...." Eddie replied.
The Magmar folded his arms behind his back, the fire on his tail crackling.
"They say Orre is ruled by two all powerful gods of the sun and moon, who saved the land many years ago. One with fur pale lavender like the early dawn, and one with fur pitch as night. Legend has it they drew their strength from a magical substance known only as 'Baycun'. It is said they even lifted up a lowly mortal and made him a great hero known as the Silver one. Together they saved the land of Orre..." Magmar closed his eyes for a moment, picturing how they must have looked. Majestic, tall as mountains, with radiant faces....
"Do... do you think they're real?" he asked, almost timidly.
Without hesitation, the Magmar nodded. "Sadly... it has been many a year since the time they walked among mortals."
Eddie's face fell. "They're gone then?" he murmured.
The Magmar paused. It was true, it had been many years since then. Some said they had only ever been a myth. That they'd never existed. Yet... His father had taught him something, long ago. Faith, everyone had. But they simply placed it in different things. And he'd always believed the legends. The Day and Night, Sun and Moon. The Silver One. He refused to give up now.
His gaze hardened. "Perhaps not forever."
A gleam returned to Eddie's eyes. "Then there's hope! We can still save the world. If we can travel to Orre and find those gods, find the Silver one, I'm sure they'll help us!"
"No," the Magmar said.
Eddie frowned, cocking his head. "No?"
The Magmar grinned, his tail flame flaring. He spoke, his voice bold and blazing. "Not just hope, my boy. We have faith. We will make it to Orre, find the magic Baycun, appeal to the ancient beings of sun and moon, and the Silver One, and save our land."
Part 7:
“But how do we even reach Orre in the first place?” Eddie cried. Desperation crept into the young sentret’s voice. “The pathfinders say that it exists on the opposite end of the world, guarded by treacherous sea and desolate wasteland. It’d be a miracle if we even made it halfway!” Eddie lowered himself to the ground, devoid of all hope, not even giving a passing glance to Elder Aodh. It was only a matter of time before the stars would make their descent and devour all worlds.
Discordant whispers surrounded the youngster and elder as the Tribe grew uncertain. Eddie’s words struck harder than Elder Aodh’s hopeful speech causing the magmar’s expression to falter for just a moment, clearly influenced by the Tribe’s doubt. Yet, in an instant, that doubt was replaced with a newfound determination.
Curling a clawed hand into a fist, Elder Aodh raised his arm and made a new declaration. “You are letting fear cloud your judgement. Have all my years of guidance been for naught?” he asked, shaking his head. “I know of a way to cross even the most treacherous waters, you just have to trust me.” He paused, allowing for the echo of his words to be fully absorbed by the Tribe. When the moment passed, Aodh impassionately yelled, “I have an old friend who resides within the Eastern Ocean. Her name is Eira and she is strong enough and compassionate enough to take us on this journey!”
Enthralled by Adoh’s words, the Tribe grew closer—including those who planted seeds of doubt—looking at him expectantly but Adoh lowered his fist, his tail flame betraying the disappointed look that marred his face.
“But alas, I fear that I will not be able to make the full journey with those who choose to go to Orre. The Eastern Ocean is dangerous, especially for an old fire type like myself. Once we reach the ocean, Eira will look after you, and once the ocean is crossed, you must learn to look after yourselves in Orre. Eira can’t come up on land, you see, she is bound by the waters.” Elder Adoh looked towards the pitch sky. “Time is running short. We must make preparations for the journey now. Who will volunteer to go?”
The Tribe went silent at Adoh’s question. Some shirked away from the magmar while others were left contemplating the offer. Then a voice spoke out from the huddled crowd.
“I’ll go.”
Its owner stepped forward, allowing herself to be seen by the entire Tribe. The luxio was barely an adult but she was strong, smart, and cunning. As she stood before Elder Adoh, she gave a respectful bow.
“Well met, Nariko,” he grinned. “Anyone else?”
“If Nariko is going…then…I am too!” The shy voice was much younger and came from a rockruff, who stumbled her way to the front of the crowd before imitating the luxio’s bow.
“Aw, Gemma you don’t have to do this you know,” Nariko began before being interrupted by Gemma.
“But I want to go! I want to!” she yelled indignantly.
“Peace, girls, peace. Two have offered themselves to this quest!” Adoh roared. “Does anyone else wish to join them?”
The process repeated itself eight more times before the rest of the Tribe backed away from Adoh, signaling their disinterest. Those who stood before the magmar came from all walks of life, ranging from youngster to elder, the battleworn to the inexperienced. Nonetheless all ten pokémon shared the same determination and goal and that was enough for Elder Adoh to accept them on his quest.
The journey to the Eastern Ocean was as long as it was uneventful. The pace was slower than anyone in the group would’ve liked. It was weeks before anyone could see the ocean, and it took three more days from there to reach the shoreline. Yet instead of heading to the beach, Adoh guided the group to cliff that stood high above the waters before asking everyone to stand back. Then, he made a whistling sound.
The water stilled, then bubbled as the clouds turned a deep shade of crimson. In the distance a leviathan of a lapras broke the water’s surface, sending waves high enough to touch the edge of a cliff. The group that stood behind Adoh were left in awe at the lapras’ swift approach and bellowing voice.
“Adoh! How good to see you after all this time! I was worried that you’d forget me after a while.”
“I’d never forget a friend, Eira,” Adoh said with a sad smile. “Much as I’d love to catch up, I’ve come to ask you a favour.” He gestured towards the group standing behind him and explained their quest as Eira listened intently. When Adoh had finished, Eira turned her pale gaze towards the heavens, deep in thought.
“The situation does indeed sound dire,” she mused. “I can make it to Orre in ten days but are you sure you want to go? The outlands are inhospitable and difficult to traverse—”
“We wouldn’t have come all this way if we weren’t certain,” Adoh assured.
With that Eira understood and bowed her head, allowing the travellers to climb atop to lapras’ shell. Nariko and Gemma lead the group and huddled together in the middle as the rest followed. Eria took one last look at Adoh, who’d remained on the cliff.
“Go now!” the old magmar cried to the behemoth of a lapras, eyes burning with hope when looked towards his ten champions. “May the sun and moon guide you to the Silver One and save us from the starfall!”
Part 8:
Lapras was ready!
He was going find the Silver One to save everyone from the Starfall!
…whatever the absolute hell that meant!
See, that old Magmar…he’d always been a bit of an old coot. He seemed like the type of guy who would stand on a street corner with a sign that said “The End Is Nigh” while screaming about how everyone needed to atone for their sins, or something bizarre like that.
But…something about the way he spoke today…and judging by the absolute fever dream Lapras had had last night..lh felt inclined to believe the old man. Just this once. Though, he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what any of that damn riddle meant. What the hell was the Silver One, and what was the Starfall?
He supposed he could deduce, from the way Magmar had said it—the absolute fear that showed in his eyes as the words left his mouth, and the quiver in his voice—led Lapras to believe it wasn’t anything good. And that scared him.
No matter, though. He was book smart. Tech savvy. He’d figure it out…maybe.
“Sure thing, old man,” Lapras said. He turned flipper and began to head out of the store. His shift had ended, and he suddenly felt more tired than he had when he’d woken up. His cozy, underwater cave was waiting for him. He’d want to nestle in before getting to work on whatever bouffalaunt shit was about to head his way.
“Have a good night,” he called.
“Be safe, Lapras. I’m counting on you,” Magmar wheezed.
No pressure, though.
As he trudged back to his lake, his mind began to wander, trying to figure out where he could possibly start in trying to crack this riddle. He supposed, since he could assume the Starfall was some armageddon apocalyptic type crap, he felt better trying to focus on the thing that might help stop it: this so-called Silver One.
What do I know that’s silver, though…
Part 9:
But it didn’t matter what was silver. Something hit him on the back of the head.
“Hey!” he called out in annoyance, turning around to see who had walked up and decided the next logical course of action was to slap the person whose back was turned to them upside the back of their head. But there was no-one there. An eyebrow was raised in confusion.
“What…”
They must have done it and dashed. Stupid kids. He sighed and walked forward, but then stepped on something. It felt like glass. He took his foot off and looked down.
It shone. It had five points. It was the size of his palm. He bent over and picked it up. It was a five-pointed star.
Starfall…
Really?
He realized what was coming not a second too early. He had just enough time to run for it and duck under the cover of a tree as dozens of stars began to fall from the sky. They fell with glittering noises like rain. Some of them were small enough to be paperweights, others were the size of his hand, and still others were as big as watermelons. He jumped in fright as one as big as a car fell into the lake ahead of him with a massive splash. They fell into the canopy and weighed it down. He had just enough wits to crawl under a different portion of the tree before the combined weight of the stars sent the canopy falling to the ground.
Then it stopped.
Everything was silent.
Dozens and dozens of stars lay on the ground, sticking out of it by a point, and floating on the lake. He walked around, looking at all the devastation around him they’d caused. Trees had been sliced and chopped in half by the falling stars. The ground was completely littered with them, and the lake would never recover. And even weirder was that it had only happened in this particular spot. The rest of the forest, and even the rest of the lake, was completely unaffected; the stars had only fallen in this, twenty-foot spot.
He flapped his arms and looked around in something between confusion and frustration. All that adventuring for… this??
“What the f—”
Somewhere unseen, a Mew giggled. She of course, had orchestrated the events of the entire day, and then bribed a bunch of starmie and staryu to let her soup them up with power and drop them on him.
Maybe next time she asked him to join her tea party, he’d humor her.
Nine parts written by nine authors, each of which only had a couple sentences to go off of. Machoke beatdowns, philosophy, Of Sand And Shadows, and spontaneous evolution are all part of this chaotic mess of a masterpiece.
Here's everyone who participated in this. Thank you all for contributing!
Inkedust
Wildboots
Flyg0n
kintsugi
SparklingEspeon
AbraPunk
windskull
Starlight Aurate
Sinderella
Wildboots
Flyg0n
kintsugi
SparklingEspeon
AbraPunk
windskull
Starlight Aurate
Sinderella
The author for each part is in spoiler tags at the end, so you can have fun guessing who wrote what?
Now, have fun reading!
Thousand Roads Exquisite Corpse 2020
Pokemon POV 1
Pokemon POV 1
Part 1:
Brann exhaled deeply, a few loose embers straying from his elongated mouth. He stretched his tiny limbs and closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of magma seep into his bones, relaxing all of his joints, warming the aches in his little spine. That Numel’s headbutt had left him more bruised than he had first thought… He tried to fold his stubby arms behind his oversized head like he saw adults do, but his claws barely even reached his earholes.
He sighed and opened his eyes. The ashy grey sky burned with volcanic fire as lava oozed down the cliffsides, halting at the waters of the pebbly shoreline below. Before his eyes, Brann watched the lava cool and harden, sending up clouds of hissing steam the moment it touched the waters. He knew that, within the volcano’s depths, Magmar, Charizard, and various other Pokemon exulted in the fiery eruption. It was a good day to live in the volcano.
At least, as good as any day, considering he was still stuck in his first form. Brann sighed dolefully as he thought of the large Magmar inhabiting the volcano, of their powerful arms and flaming tails—or of the Magmortar who could shoot balls of fire from their hands.
Brann looked sadly at his little claws. When would it be his turn? The other Magby and Charmander he grew up with had all evolved. He had trained just as hard as they did—even harder! He never backed down and never gave up on his training. Why was he stuck in his little form while everyone else got to grow up? His fire was less potent, his attacks were weaker, he was slower and tired more quickly—his arms weren’t even long enough to fold behind his head!
His eyes fell down to the salty waters reflecting the darkened sky. The flow of lava had slowed and the clouds of steam had ceased. Brann’s thoughts mulled about in his brain as he watched a tall form stumble out of the waters and onto the pebbled shoreline.
Brann sat up, staring straight at the figure, but it did not move again. What was it? He had hardly ever seen anything come out of these waters. Was it an enemy? Someone he needed to fight off—could this be the battle that finally triggered his evolution?
Getting up, Brann hopped into a stream of magma and coursed down the mountainside as quickly as he could (which was not as quick as he’d like). Blood pulsed through his veins as he dashed closer and closer to the creature—it was moving! It propped itself up and—
Brann dashed right up to the creature, pausing only a few meters away. Deep blue eyes set in a gaunt, white face looked curiously at him. Platinum hair fell over her shoulders. She held herself up with one shaking arm while the other clutched at her abdomen. Brann gasped as he noticed two deep gashes stretch over her torso. Apart from her hair and face, her whole body was clad in white scales.
Under the black burning sky, the Magby and the scaled-and-hairy creature stared at each other while the waters lapped the edges of the shore and the volcano oozed magma. Puffing out his chest as much as he could, Brann proclaimed, “Who are you, what are you, and will you fight me?”
Starlight Aurate
Part 2:
Under the black burning sky, the Magby and the scaled-and-hairy creature stared at each other while the waters lapped the edges of the shore and the volcano oozed magma. Puffing out his chest as much as he could, Brann proclaimed, “Who are you, what are you, and will you fight me?”
"Who ... am I?" the creature asked slowly, seeming to mull over each word. "What ... am I?"
Brann watched impatiently, fire and bloodlust curdling in his chest.
The creature tapped its strange limbs against the silver scales that lined its chest. "I am a creature of your legends, child," it said slowly. "Once upon a time, they called me ... well, that no longer matters." Its scales clinked as it stood up, and Brann realized that, from the way they caught the light, those scales couldn't truly be part of it at all, any more than the pockmarks were part of an ember. The creature shifted with another clink. "I believe that answers your first two questions."
"But will you—"
"But will I fight you?" it finished for him, and then huffed again.
Brann couldn't help but notice how long the pauses between its words were. The elder magmar in the volcano spoke in torrents, a steady stream. Even the young magby learned to communicate like spitfire. To pause for too long on these slopes meant to perish. And yet this creature seemed to survive, somehow.
"No," the creature intoned slowly. "I will not."
The fire flared up in him. Brann exhaled a hot stream of smoke, savoring the way it curled around his nostrils and filled him with the familiar scent of flames. "Why not?"
"I am tired of fighting. Once upon a time that was all I wanted. I fought and I fought all who stood in my way. I won. No more." It shifted its weight, and Brann saw the rust that seemed to be eating away at its scales. But rust shouldn't cake into hair like that, not the way that it settled into little maroon ringlets that went all around its head and neck. "I see you are the same."
"I would never tire of fighting," Brann crowed triumphantly, spitting a stream of fire into the beach between them for emphasis.
The stranger's scales glowed brilliantly in the light of the volcano and its hair flickered in the soot-choked breeze as it replied, "That is where I fear the similarity between us lies, little magby."
kintsugi
Part 3:
It took a moment for the words to sink in and another for Brann to realize the stranger wasn't joking. Of course not—the stranger wouldn't know a joke if it bit him. The volcano still warmed Brann's back, an almost maternal comfort, but something about the stranger's expression chilled his insides. He grinned through it, refusing to be spooked by a cagey old dragon, and repeated his mother's words. "Fear is the first enemy we learn to fight, isn't it?" He stuttered over his words, though. It was hard to talk up to someone who towered over him, someone who'd clearly faced so many more battles than he had, scales battle-scarred and bent.
"Perhaps," said the kommo-o, "but not the last." He watched Brann with slitted red eyes as if daring him to say more ... or hoping he wouldn't.
Brann swallowed. "Doesn't look like you've fought your last battle yet."
"True. After all, I'm still alive."
Brann opened his mouth to answer, but only smoke escaped his lips.
In the long span of silence that followed, the kommo-o turned away. His footsteps were heavy, scales jangling, but there was no mistaking them for plodding. The stranger might be old, but there was power and control in his every movement. I have killed before, his steps promised, and I will do so again.
"Then how do you know?" Brann meant it to come out like a challenge, pushing up words from the same place his fire attacks came from, but his voice sounded small even to himself.
The kommo-o stopped to glance back, scales grinding together. "Because the last enemy I face in every fight is the voice that tells me to keep going, to set fire to everything until there's nothing left. And the last voice I fight each night is the one that forced me to stop."
Brann let him go after that. As he watched the stranger disappear down the curve of the hill, he thought, We are not the same. Not at all. When I grow up, I'll be the strongest magmortar there ever was, but I'll never be like you.
But he was wrong.
Wildboots
Part 4:
Brann remained there for many minutes afterwards.
He glanced skywards. The crisp, cool breeze, coupled with the sight of the moon and stars overhead, brought with it a momentary wave of calm.
The Magmar inhaled deeply and held his breath for several seconds. "Fuuuuuuuck." He prolonged his exhale as he spoke this single word.
This was certainly an unexpected night.
He scanned the environment, trying to determine where to go next.
In all directions, it was the same dense forest, blocking any possible knowledge of what dangers may lay ahead.
Brann grumbled something inaudible and set off in a random direction. Better than just staying on that hill.
Many minutes later, he was still in the forest.
All these damn vines tripping me up… swear I'm gonna torch this whole--
He stopped as he heard something. Something that wasn't the call of a wild pokemon, or yet another gods-forsaken branch snapping under his foot.
It was a yell… of a civilized pokemon!
Brann rushed over in the general direction of the sound, and found a… blue Sandslash being attacked by a group of Machoke; four in total.
"Hey!" Brann called, doing his best to sound intimidating.
One of the Machoke turned and sneered at Brann. "Oy, lads, we got ourselves a big 'un!"
The other three Machoke glared at Brann, each one wearing a wicked smile.
"Get 'im!" The first Machoke called, and all four of them leapt into action.
Brann reacted quickly, and punched one of the Machoke square in the jaw. Its head snapped back and it fell, stunned. He risked a glance at the cowering Sandslash. They seemed to be… conscious, barely. His attention was forcibly turned back to the Machoke when he was slugged in the gut. He grunted in pain, but managed to spew flames at his attackers.
Effective. Nice. He thought as his flames caused one other Machoke to panic and crash into a tree.
He wreathed his hands in flames and swung wildly at the Machoke in front of him, being unable to suppress a sadistic grin as each successful hit left a black scorch mark on the Machoke. Brann kept up his onslaught until this one was down.
Good. Three more-- Brann was immediately thrown forward by the force of a punch to the back of his head. He fell on his hands and knees, and could barely recover before he was kicked by a Machoke. He rolled over onto his side and left himself wide open for all three remaining Machoke to pummel him.
Every punch and kick only amplified the pain of the next blow. He attempted to curl up into a ball, but couldn't. He got a punch to the side of the head and immediately tasted blood.
No, no, no… this isn't how it ends. This can't be it! He grew panicked as he was mercilessly beaten.
Just when he thought he was done for, something came hurtling towards one of the Machoke, bowling it over.
The Sandslash! Well enough to fight, apparently.
The other two Machoke gaped in shock and rushed to attack the newly revitalized Sandslash.
Brann struggled to get up; his knees were trembling, and he coughed up a bit of blood. He shut his eyes and focused…
A soft light came from his torso and spread outwards like a ray of sunshine.
Heal Pulse… thanks, Smeargle. Unfortunately, this was a one-time thing. Brann immediately felt most of his injuries healing.
He rushed back into the fray, dragging one Machoke off of the Sandslash and Flamethrower-ing it until it stopped struggling.
Then, he watched as the Sandslash fended off the other two Machoke at once. Damn.
Still, though, Brann felt like he was clearly the hero here, so why not keep helping? He grabbed one Machoke by the shoulders and slammed it to the ground, stomping on its chest until it, too, fell unconscious.
The Magmar looked up in time to see the Sandslash encase the remaining Machoke-- the leader-- in ice.
Brann waited a few seconds before approaching the odd Sandslash. "Hey there, nice fight you put up."
The Sandslash jumped at the sound of Brann's voice. "Huh? Oh, um… thanks," He fidgeted with his claws, looking mighty uncomfortable. "How did you even… find out this was happening?"
"Just dumb luck that I was going this way, I suppose." He hummed thoughtfully. "Say, what kind of trouble were you getting yourself into?"
"Trouble? No, no, I wasn't in any trouble! Or, mm, getting into trouble…? That wasn't what was happening. I was getting picked on by that gang of Machoke. They're pretty notorious for just… fighting whoever they want to fight."
"I see. And this was your first time standing up for yourself?"
"...Yeah."
"Well, that's one hell of a job you did." Brann tilted his head slightly. "I ain't ever seen a Sandslash like you before… what are you, exactly?"
"Wha? Oh, me? I'm an Alolan Sandslash. I thought that was obvious?" The Sandslash said quizzically.
"No, I never heard of any 'Alolan' anything. Hmm. Whatever, I guess."
Then, Mister Smeargle's words echoed in his head… Brann, you'll need all the help you can get.
Brann grunted. "Hey, you, how would you like to go on an adventure with me?"
The Alolan Sandslash was quiet for several seconds. Had he heard the question? Then, he gave a start, and his arm twitched. "Um, were you joking? If you were, I'd really appreciate it if you told me."
"N… No, I wasn't joking."
"Oh! Uh, okay! Then… yeah, I guess I'll come with you." The Sandslash bounced on the balls of his feet, looking a bit excited over the prospect of adventure.
"Nice. Wait, what's your name? I'm Brann Magmar."
"Oh, sorry, I never told you! I'm Eddie Sandslash! Nice to meet you, Brann!"
"Eddie, huh? Not very common 'round here…" Brann put a hand to his chin. Something was very odd about this 'Eddie', and it wasn't just his appearance… "Mm. Well, anyway, suppose we'd best be off right away. You alright with that?"
"Uh? Oh, yes! Yes, I'm fine with that, thank you for asking."
"Great." He took a moment to make sure neither of them were injured in any debilitating way, then nodded. "Let's go."
And with that, Magmar Brann and Alolan Sandslash Eddie set off into the night.
AbraPunk
Part 5:
Even if they had been uninjured, traversing the dessert was something neither pokemon was comfortable with. Out here, there was no cover to offer protection from prying eyes. Eddie, in particular, stuck out like a sore claw, moonlight setting his ice-crystal spines aglow. At least the bag partially covered him. Their feet sank into the sandy dunes, slowing their travel even further. If there was one solace, it was that neither felt the biting cold of desert winds.
Only after they had put some distance between themselves, and the old human ruins did they finally feel safe enough to speak. Eddie sidled up beside Brann, matching him step for step.
“Okay,” he began, running his question through his mind, “we need to talk.”
Brann kept his gaze on the dunes ahead of them. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
Eddie stopped in his tracks. His expression twisted from tired to enraged. He ran to catch up again, grabbing the magmar by the shoulder, and spun him around so they were face to face. “Nothing to talk about? Damn it, Brann, you can’t just ignore what happened back there! We could have died! Out here in this gods-forsaken dessert! And for what, a bit of loot?”
The magmar’s expression soured. “It was more than a bit of loot!” Brann insisted. “Look at it what we found. Actual human artifacts, relics of an era gone by. Do you have any idea how important this is going to be back home? We may finally have definitive proof of what happened here all those years ago. The incident that wiped out all human life!”
“And what good will it do if we get killed out here by those twisted beasts? I mean, have you ever seen any pokemon act like that? They were so vicious! That’s not normal. It isn’t safe here.”
Brann let out a long breath, closing his eyes. Then he reached up to put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “…You’re right. It is dangerous out here. But that’s all the more reason for us to get these findings back home. See…” There was a long pause as he down, as if thinking.
“…Okay, here it goes.” Brann looked back up, staring the icy sandslash in the eye. “The truth is… I think this area, where we’ve been looking for human goods… I think this is where everything started. And if we can prove that… We’ll be one step closer to making our world safe.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Just spit it out already!”
The magmar took another long breath his gaze focused on the sandy dunes. “Eddie… you ever hear the legends about a place called Orre?”
Windskull
Part 6:
"No...." Eddie replied.
The Magmar folded his arms behind his back, the fire on his tail crackling.
"They say Orre is ruled by two all powerful gods of the sun and moon, who saved the land many years ago. One with fur pale lavender like the early dawn, and one with fur pitch as night. Legend has it they drew their strength from a magical substance known only as 'Baycun'. It is said they even lifted up a lowly mortal and made him a great hero known as the Silver one. Together they saved the land of Orre..." Magmar closed his eyes for a moment, picturing how they must have looked. Majestic, tall as mountains, with radiant faces....
"Do... do you think they're real?" he asked, almost timidly.
Without hesitation, the Magmar nodded. "Sadly... it has been many a year since the time they walked among mortals."
Eddie's face fell. "They're gone then?" he murmured.
The Magmar paused. It was true, it had been many years since then. Some said they had only ever been a myth. That they'd never existed. Yet... His father had taught him something, long ago. Faith, everyone had. But they simply placed it in different things. And he'd always believed the legends. The Day and Night, Sun and Moon. The Silver One. He refused to give up now.
His gaze hardened. "Perhaps not forever."
A gleam returned to Eddie's eyes. "Then there's hope! We can still save the world. If we can travel to Orre and find those gods, find the Silver one, I'm sure they'll help us!"
"No," the Magmar said.
Eddie frowned, cocking his head. "No?"
The Magmar grinned, his tail flame flaring. He spoke, his voice bold and blazing. "Not just hope, my boy. We have faith. We will make it to Orre, find the magic Baycun, appeal to the ancient beings of sun and moon, and the Silver One, and save our land."
Flyg0n
Part 7:
“But how do we even reach Orre in the first place?” Eddie cried. Desperation crept into the young sentret’s voice. “The pathfinders say that it exists on the opposite end of the world, guarded by treacherous sea and desolate wasteland. It’d be a miracle if we even made it halfway!” Eddie lowered himself to the ground, devoid of all hope, not even giving a passing glance to Elder Aodh. It was only a matter of time before the stars would make their descent and devour all worlds.
Discordant whispers surrounded the youngster and elder as the Tribe grew uncertain. Eddie’s words struck harder than Elder Aodh’s hopeful speech causing the magmar’s expression to falter for just a moment, clearly influenced by the Tribe’s doubt. Yet, in an instant, that doubt was replaced with a newfound determination.
Curling a clawed hand into a fist, Elder Aodh raised his arm and made a new declaration. “You are letting fear cloud your judgement. Have all my years of guidance been for naught?” he asked, shaking his head. “I know of a way to cross even the most treacherous waters, you just have to trust me.” He paused, allowing for the echo of his words to be fully absorbed by the Tribe. When the moment passed, Aodh impassionately yelled, “I have an old friend who resides within the Eastern Ocean. Her name is Eira and she is strong enough and compassionate enough to take us on this journey!”
Enthralled by Adoh’s words, the Tribe grew closer—including those who planted seeds of doubt—looking at him expectantly but Adoh lowered his fist, his tail flame betraying the disappointed look that marred his face.
“But alas, I fear that I will not be able to make the full journey with those who choose to go to Orre. The Eastern Ocean is dangerous, especially for an old fire type like myself. Once we reach the ocean, Eira will look after you, and once the ocean is crossed, you must learn to look after yourselves in Orre. Eira can’t come up on land, you see, she is bound by the waters.” Elder Adoh looked towards the pitch sky. “Time is running short. We must make preparations for the journey now. Who will volunteer to go?”
The Tribe went silent at Adoh’s question. Some shirked away from the magmar while others were left contemplating the offer. Then a voice spoke out from the huddled crowd.
“I’ll go.”
Its owner stepped forward, allowing herself to be seen by the entire Tribe. The luxio was barely an adult but she was strong, smart, and cunning. As she stood before Elder Adoh, she gave a respectful bow.
“Well met, Nariko,” he grinned. “Anyone else?”
“If Nariko is going…then…I am too!” The shy voice was much younger and came from a rockruff, who stumbled her way to the front of the crowd before imitating the luxio’s bow.
“Aw, Gemma you don’t have to do this you know,” Nariko began before being interrupted by Gemma.
“But I want to go! I want to!” she yelled indignantly.
“Peace, girls, peace. Two have offered themselves to this quest!” Adoh roared. “Does anyone else wish to join them?”
The process repeated itself eight more times before the rest of the Tribe backed away from Adoh, signaling their disinterest. Those who stood before the magmar came from all walks of life, ranging from youngster to elder, the battleworn to the inexperienced. Nonetheless all ten pokémon shared the same determination and goal and that was enough for Elder Adoh to accept them on his quest.
The journey to the Eastern Ocean was as long as it was uneventful. The pace was slower than anyone in the group would’ve liked. It was weeks before anyone could see the ocean, and it took three more days from there to reach the shoreline. Yet instead of heading to the beach, Adoh guided the group to cliff that stood high above the waters before asking everyone to stand back. Then, he made a whistling sound.
The water stilled, then bubbled as the clouds turned a deep shade of crimson. In the distance a leviathan of a lapras broke the water’s surface, sending waves high enough to touch the edge of a cliff. The group that stood behind Adoh were left in awe at the lapras’ swift approach and bellowing voice.
“Adoh! How good to see you after all this time! I was worried that you’d forget me after a while.”
“I’d never forget a friend, Eira,” Adoh said with a sad smile. “Much as I’d love to catch up, I’ve come to ask you a favour.” He gestured towards the group standing behind him and explained their quest as Eira listened intently. When Adoh had finished, Eira turned her pale gaze towards the heavens, deep in thought.
“The situation does indeed sound dire,” she mused. “I can make it to Orre in ten days but are you sure you want to go? The outlands are inhospitable and difficult to traverse—”
“We wouldn’t have come all this way if we weren’t certain,” Adoh assured.
With that Eira understood and bowed her head, allowing the travellers to climb atop to lapras’ shell. Nariko and Gemma lead the group and huddled together in the middle as the rest followed. Eria took one last look at Adoh, who’d remained on the cliff.
“Go now!” the old magmar cried to the behemoth of a lapras, eyes burning with hope when looked towards his ten champions. “May the sun and moon guide you to the Silver One and save us from the starfall!”
Inkedust
Part 8:
Lapras was ready!
He was going find the Silver One to save everyone from the Starfall!
…whatever the absolute hell that meant!
See, that old Magmar…he’d always been a bit of an old coot. He seemed like the type of guy who would stand on a street corner with a sign that said “The End Is Nigh” while screaming about how everyone needed to atone for their sins, or something bizarre like that.
But…something about the way he spoke today…and judging by the absolute fever dream Lapras had had last night..lh felt inclined to believe the old man. Just this once. Though, he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what any of that damn riddle meant. What the hell was the Silver One, and what was the Starfall?
He supposed he could deduce, from the way Magmar had said it—the absolute fear that showed in his eyes as the words left his mouth, and the quiver in his voice—led Lapras to believe it wasn’t anything good. And that scared him.
No matter, though. He was book smart. Tech savvy. He’d figure it out…maybe.
“Sure thing, old man,” Lapras said. He turned flipper and began to head out of the store. His shift had ended, and he suddenly felt more tired than he had when he’d woken up. His cozy, underwater cave was waiting for him. He’d want to nestle in before getting to work on whatever bouffalaunt shit was about to head his way.
“Have a good night,” he called.
“Be safe, Lapras. I’m counting on you,” Magmar wheezed.
No pressure, though.
As he trudged back to his lake, his mind began to wander, trying to figure out where he could possibly start in trying to crack this riddle. He supposed, since he could assume the Starfall was some armageddon apocalyptic type crap, he felt better trying to focus on the thing that might help stop it: this so-called Silver One.
What do I know that’s silver, though…
Sinderella
Part 9:
But it didn’t matter what was silver. Something hit him on the back of the head.
“Hey!” he called out in annoyance, turning around to see who had walked up and decided the next logical course of action was to slap the person whose back was turned to them upside the back of their head. But there was no-one there. An eyebrow was raised in confusion.
“What…”
They must have done it and dashed. Stupid kids. He sighed and walked forward, but then stepped on something. It felt like glass. He took his foot off and looked down.
It shone. It had five points. It was the size of his palm. He bent over and picked it up. It was a five-pointed star.
Starfall…
Really?
He realized what was coming not a second too early. He had just enough time to run for it and duck under the cover of a tree as dozens of stars began to fall from the sky. They fell with glittering noises like rain. Some of them were small enough to be paperweights, others were the size of his hand, and still others were as big as watermelons. He jumped in fright as one as big as a car fell into the lake ahead of him with a massive splash. They fell into the canopy and weighed it down. He had just enough wits to crawl under a different portion of the tree before the combined weight of the stars sent the canopy falling to the ground.
Then it stopped.
Everything was silent.
Dozens and dozens of stars lay on the ground, sticking out of it by a point, and floating on the lake. He walked around, looking at all the devastation around him they’d caused. Trees had been sliced and chopped in half by the falling stars. The ground was completely littered with them, and the lake would never recover. And even weirder was that it had only happened in this particular spot. The rest of the forest, and even the rest of the lake, was completely unaffected; the stars had only fallen in this, twenty-foot spot.
He flapped his arms and looked around in something between confusion and frustration. All that adventuring for… this??
“What the f—”
Somewhere unseen, a Mew giggled. She of course, had orchestrated the events of the entire day, and then bribed a bunch of starmie and staryu to let her soup them up with power and drop them on him.
Maybe next time she asked him to join her tea party, he’d humor her.
SparklingEspeon