| Firebreathers | Heliolisk | Serpentine |
| Scale and Fang | Gyarados | Outrage |
| Dragon's Den | Proud Lineage | Scraggy |
Winter’s come early this year again. Just barely a month ago, the trees still had their autumn leaves and now the snow is already coming and blanketing the world outside. Were you still living in the wilds, this would be when you’d huddle up in your den and enter brumation. To pull your wings in and tuck your ruddy head up against your tail. Huddled up with your young, and considering the specific place you come from, likely huddled up with a good dozen of your peers.
“Ha ha! I’ve got you this time!”
But living among humans allows one to live in ways outside the workings of nature. As the warm fireplace you’re basking yourself next to reminds. You raise your head and peer out with your piercing yellow eyes as a pair of young Druddigon, spitting images of yourself, romp and chase each other around the couch of your trainer’s living room.
Even with the snow and winter chill kept safely at bay, your children surprise you at times with how much energy they have. Especially
now when the streetlights outside are lit and the moon and stars in the sky.
“Kids… it’s getting late, keep it down,” you mutter tiredly. “Your trainers are trying to sleep right now.”
As were you, for that matter. But your children seem to have other things in mind. They look at you from the couch with whines of protest.
“Aww, but mom!”
He is your Second of Two, and were you living back in the wilds, that would be his name among your kind until he accomplished his first feat worth being remembered for. He is ‘Rudd’ to the humans you live with, and your First of Two ‘Rufus’. You’re not sure what the story behind how they chose them is, but that’s not on your mind at the moment.
“Enough. Both of you, come and rest-”
You throw a set of claws out to tugg at your younger child, only to recoil after they feel cold to the touch. A flash of alarm goes across your eyes, before you scowl down with a scolding growl.
“Ack, your scales feel freezing right now!” you hiss. “How are you two not bothered by this?! Come on by the fire and warm up right now! It’s not good for young dragons like you to be this cold.”
“Aren’t there those ‘vent’ thingies we can just lay on?” your elder child asks, giving a sheepish grin.
You decide to put your foot down and slip past your children, nudging them forward with a sharp harrumph. They squirm briefly and you sigh to yourself expecting them to put up a fuss.
“Nonsense, you’ll stay warmer huddled up with me,” you insist. “Why back when I lived in the wilds, I’d do that every winter with the other Druddigon that I lived around.”
The pair stop fighting back for a moment, before they turn and look up at you with puzzled frowns.
“In that tower north of the town that you and Duke talk about?” your elder child asks. “Why on earth would Druddigon want to live
there?”
“Yeah, there’s no fireplaces in there to stay warm with!” your younger child insists. “Are there?”
Well, it’d common practice to occasionally break brumation to warm the ground with a gout of dragonfire and stave off the cold that way. But such practices don’t mix well with the flooring of human dens, especially ones fashioned from this fuzzy ‘carpet’ underfoot, so you opt not to give your kids ideas just yet.
“No, but there’s a lot of Pokémon like you and me there, and others that are friends to them like your friends with your trainers,” you explain. “It’s a very, very special place that a lot of other dragons elsewhere in Unova would be jealous about coming from.”
Your Second of Two bats his wings tilts his head with a puzzled frown in reply.
“Huh? How come?” he asks. “I know you’ve said it’s a special place… but why would that make the Pokémon there friends with one another.”
… Maybe this was just the break you needed to wrangle them over. And the tale answering his question is one that you and the other Druddigon from your home always took pride in.
“Well, it’d be a bit hard to tell you the story running and jumping around, you chuckle. “Come with me by the hearth and I’ll tell it to you, sound fair?”
They murmur in agreement and follow you back to the fireside. You settle in against the warmed carpet, and so do they, scooting up against your hide. You see them stretch their wings and shift to try and steal the heat from the fireplace. If you can just keep them here a couple minutes, they’ll surely be too content to want to give it up.
And so, you look down as your First of Two paws at you, and turns his snout up with a curious blink.
“So, how
did Druddigon like you wind up living in that tower?”
There… are a number of versions of that story that go about, among humans and Pokémon alike since it’s not just
Druddigon who came to Dragonspiral Tower. Though you decide to focus just them, after all, it should be just long enough to hold them until they start to nod off.
And it’s always been a matter of pride for you, as a story of your and your children’s kind.
“Well, long, long ago, there were gods that lived among humans and Pokémon in this land. Gods who were dragons, like you and me,” you begin. “Back in those times, the tower was built as a sanctuary by humans who worshipped them, along with the help of Golett and Golurk who lived among them, all faithful friends and helpers who showered them with tributes of food and treasure.”
“Wait, but I thought the tower was built for
a god,” your younger child cuts in.
You catch yourself, since the story behind how Dragonspiral Tower came to be the roost of
one god is an unhappy tale involving ruin by fire and lightning. You’re… not sure that your children need to hear that story. Or at least not at their present age.
“It’s… complicated to explain, and a story for another day since it came sometime well after the first Druddigon moved in,” you insist. “But the point is that at the time it was built for two who shared it as a den, much like we share this one together.”
“But wouldn’t those dragons already have plenty of friends already?” your First of Two asks. “You just said there were a bunch of humans and Golett, weren’t they?”
“Yeah, and
dad says that dragons like him normally like having places of their own for a den that they
don’t have to share.”
You sigh to yourself as your children’s energy is slower to wane than you’d thought. Perhaps if your mate were here, this would be an easier task. But he’s with his own human and far away at the moment, so this is a matter that you must go alone, and keep your story going.
“Well… yes, but the gods’ den was
so big that it was a bit lonely. And even with the friends the humans provided, they didn’t
think like them,” you insist. “They wanted friends that would know what it was like to bask in the sun, of the thrill of finding a treasure and showing it to others. And so it was that the gods asked for the humans to find them additional friends who would be dragons like them.”
You linger briefly expecting your children to pepper you with more questions, only to see that they’re glancing at you in rapt attention. You quietly sigh in relief that you won’t have more to explain just yet and continue on with your tale.
“And so it was that the ancients that built the tower went all through Unova searching for dragons for them to be friends and helpers for them, to stand guard over the grounds and accept the treasures brought to them by visitors. They first brought forth Haxorus and their kin,” you say. “They stood tall and proud, and felled their foes with a mighty chop of their tusks… and as dragons who didn’t eat much meat while they were younger, struck the ancients as ideal companions.”
You trail off a bit for dramatic effect, and give an affected, disappointed shake of your head. Much as your own mother did when recounting this tale to you so many moons ago.
“Unfortunately they were a bit
too open to fight, both with the Pokémon already there at the tower and with each other, and day and night, they kept quarreling over who would be highest among themselves as guardians,” you continue. “Things went on and on to the point where the gods themselves couldn’t sleep until one day, they bellowed their displeasure and chased the Haxorus away from the tower with fire and thunder nipping at their tails.”
Your children jostle against you and turn their heads up, pawing at you with worried grimaces.
“... Wait, but dad’s a Haxorus and he’s not like
that,” your elder child insists. “... Is he?”
“And… is this god
still mad at him then?” your younger asks.
You flinch briefly and bite your tongue. That wasn’t at all what you wanted your children to take from that part of the story! You sit up entirely, waving your claws vigorously in protest as you speak back to them.
“No! No! Not at all! It’s just that of the dragons that were brought before the gods,
those Haxorus didn’t understand the importance of the duty they were entrusted with and all left a bad first impression as a result,” “The gods that roost there didn’t hold a grudge against
all of them. It’d have been awful for most dragons in this land if they did, especially for the Hydreigon and their kin who took the Haxorus’ place afterwards.”
Your children jolt up with a start themselves and sit up, pulling their wings in and looking up nervously at you.
“... Wait,
Hydreigon?” your Second of Two asks. “But why on earth would the gods want Pokémon so
scary watching over their den?”
“Well, being scary’s not a
bad thing all the time. After all, there’s plenty of Pokémon that would call you or me scary, and a scary guard can help chase away others that mean you harm,” you explain. “But part of being a guard for someone else is that you still need to be kindly to their guests, which the Hydreigon and their kin… weren’t.”
You look at your claws, and decide that while you’re still seated… perhaps a bit of acting to stir your children’s imagination is in order. You hold your arms out and curl your claws in almost like mouths, spreading your wings to mimic their appearances.
“When the Hydreigon came, they too fought amongst each other, and they stripped much of the surrounding forests bare to feed themselves. Worse still, many of them nursed grudges against the humans who summoned them from quarrels past,” you say, flashing your fangs for ominous effect. “And as the gods’ new guardians, they took every opportunity they could to lord over the nearby humans and their companions. To the point where others stopped visiting the gods because they were too afraid of their guards and how they’d treat them.”
You see your children scoot in towards each other and hold onto each other, visibly shivering and wide-eyed. That’s probably a sign to reel things in. After all, this is supposed to be a
happy story, not a frightening one.
“After seeing their visitors dwindle along with their gifts of treasure, the gods once again bellowed their displeasure and chased the Hydreigon away from the tower with fire and thunder nipping at their tails.”
That seems to do the trick as your children calm down and settle in again, your First of Two blinking with a curious raise of his eye.
“How many other dragons were brought to the tower anyways?”
“All the ones that could be found from Unova,” you explain. “All of which caused their own troubles when brought over.”
You rise to your feet entirely. There was quite a list of other dragons that failed to secu moving your wings and limbs as you try to mimic the forms of each one.
“The Flygon would keep digging up the stones set up about the tower. The Altaria would sing and trill at inappropriate times. The Salamence would spend more time flying about than standing guard and burn their surroundings when angered,” you finish, with your wings held flat and wide. “But in the end, each and every one of them did two things that wore the gods’ patience thin…”
“They kept fighting with each other and the Pokémon and humans who were already there?”
You turn back and look at your children, with your elder finishing your words before you can finish with a quiet yawn. You settle back down in the carpet and give a small smile, content that thus far, your scheme has been bearing fruit.
“That’s right, and like every group of dragons before, the gods would chase them away with fire and lightning,” you reply, nodding. “And so it was that the late fall came, just before the first snowflakes fall from the sky, when the first Druddigon came.”
“Wait, but why would things turn out differently for them?” your Second of Two asks. “Since if all those
other dragons made the gods upset… what made them so special?”
“Well, part of it is that they came for different reasons,” you explain, casting a glance out at the snowy world outside through the living room window.
“... Unlike the
other dragons, the Druddigon had lost their home in the mountains earlier that year and searched for another outside of it during the warm months,” you tell them. “During their wanderings, they had heard stories of a tower that was to be given away as a den for dragons, so long as they impressed the gods and their guardians inside.”
“But how did they do that?” he presses.
“By working together!” you chuckle back. “After hearing of the earlier dragons’ squabbles, the Druddigon’s elder dragons gathered their ranks together and declared that if they would merely work together, that the den would be there for all.”
Well, things were undoubtedly more complicated than that, but you’ve always been fondest of the version of the story your mother and the other Druddigon you lived around told most frequently. And thus, you stick to it and continue on.
“And so they bravely marched forth, young and old, weak and strong, meeting the gods’ guardians in combat and fighting them to a draw,” you say, smiling back. “Their strength and teamwork so impressed the gods that they offered them the honor of guardianship at once.”
Your children’s eyes are excited now as they murmur to themselves about how exciting it must have been to impress such strong Pokémon when even the likes of mighty Haxorus and Hydreigon fell short. Their eyelids are starting to grow heavy, and content that your storytelling has done its work, you start to curl up towards the fire and give a content smile.
“And that was how Druddigon like us came to live in Dragonspiral Tower.”
That seems as good a note as any to wind things down, and to give the last nudge needed to push your children off towards sleep. You start to reach out to pull them in towards you, when a quiet, disapproving voice speaks up from behind.
“... That’s not how I remember the version of the story that
I heard, Neela. And I grew up around Dragonspiral Tower myself.”
You stiffen up after hearing the name your humans use for you called out and turn to see a Mienshao approach with a small, quiet frown. That’s ‘Duke’ as your humans call him, which you suppose has rubbed off on you from habit. He’s the Pokémon who showed you the ropes when you started partnering with the humans of this family, and he carries wisdom from both life among humans and the time before.
It’s the second one that has you a bit worried, as you speak up to try and brush him off.
“Ah, yes. Well, it’s folklore,” you insist. “There’s usually different versions that go around.”
“Maybe so, but even that’s definitely not how most versions of the story
I heard went,” the Mienshao retorts, folding his arms. “Especially the part about how the Druddigon came into the tower. It’s not quite as simple a story as that.”
You grimace as the children are suddenly more awake now, and much to your chagrin, much as children tend to do, your younger child lets curiosity get the better of him and he glances up at the Mienshao.
“Oh? What was different about the version you heard?”
Duke doesn’t frown, but even so, his expression remains firm as he squats to lower himself down to the youngsters’ level.
“Well, their purpose for coming was a bit different in the one I usually hear. In the wilds, Druddigon don’t just hunt for food, but also for dens,” Duke explains. “When they come across one that’s pleasing to them, sometimes they will try and drive off its owner to claim it for themselves.”
He shakes his head as you tighten your claws against the the carpet and quietly cringe.
You’ve heard the version of the story Duke’s telling too, and it’s not one
“And that was what brought them to Dragonspiral Tower. They had been wandering from the mountains, when in the late fall on Icirrus’ Moor, they came across the tower. They saw that it was a pleasing den, but much too big for any of them to take alone, so their elders said: ‘let us join claws and hunt this den from its inhabitants for ourselves’.”
Your children are starting to waver now, as that sense of wonder you worked so hard to instill leaves their eyes and a doubtful unease takes its place.
“... Wait, but aren’t there Golett and Golurk at the tower still?” your elder child asks. “Doesn’t that mean that the Druddigon
lost?”
“Well, yes and no. Your mother is right about them fighting the defenders to a draw, and some even say they gained the upper hand,” the Mienshao says, before shaking his head.
“The
problem was that that day the gods came back to roost,” the Fighting-type continues. “When they found out about what these strangers had done to their companions, they were understandably displeased.”
Your grumble under your breath about how Duke just
had to step in and ruin your story right before the kids were about to sleep. Their wings are now drooped and their heads held low in disappointment, as your Second of Two uneasily speaks up to ask:
“What… happened then?”
“Well, in the version of the story
I heard, the gods grew enraged and bellowed their displeasure and swooped down, throwing fire and lightning before the Druddigon,” Duke explained. “It is said the Druddigon grew sore afraid in the gods’ presence, to the point where some of them even fell ill out of fright—”
You’ve had enough. You don’t understand why Duke is doing this since as your mentor, it’s not like him to just embarrass you like this in front of others. You let out a sharp glare and growl your displeasure.
“Alright Duke, we don’t need to hear the rest,” you snap. “I just wanted to give the kids a nice story before they went to sleep before
you had to step in and ruin things.”
He falls quiet for a moment, before looking over with a small smile and a wave of a wispy-furred paw.
“Then wouldn’t it make sense for me to end before the story’s over now would it?” he asks. “After all, while the truth of any story doesn’t always show Pokémon like us at our best, in this case, of all the dragons that came before them, it was indeed the Druddigon that the gods chose to help protect their tower.
You blink and realize that Duke must be telling a version of the story of how Dragonspiral Tower came to have Druddigon that was different than you thought. The children blink in confusion as they
“They… did?” your Second of Two asks. “But
why?”
“Yeah, so far, your story just made it sound like the Druddigon were mean to the Pokémon that were already there!” your First of Two protests. “And then grew scaredy after they made the gods mad. Why on earth would the gods
want them after all that?”
“Well, most Pokémon
would be scared in their situation, dragon or not. But in the end, amidst the roaring and the fire and lightning, the whole time, the Druddigon did not yield or turn away or flee like the other dragons,” the Mienshao explained. “They alone stood firm, if visibly quaking.”
You blink at the Mienshao’s answer, and your features ease a bit. He sees them himself, before he raises a paw and continues on with his tale.
“With embers and sparks dancing about them, the gods held back their power briefly and demanded of the Druddigon: ‘Why did you come here and harm our guardians? Did you really think that you could best the gods’ might?’”
Duke trails off briefly, studying your reaction and your children’s. He sees that that curious spark has returned to their eyes. Even if they’re not as excited as they were for your version of the story, they don’t look disappointed anymore.
“At the gods’ demand, one of the Druddigon from the front fell to his belly with a heartful plea: ‘Lords of Black and White, have pity! We sought your tower for ourselves because our dens were hunted from us and we have none to shield ourselves from winter’s snow!’”
You see the children stiffen up and glance out the window towards the snow through the window and wince at the sight. Being stuck in such weather without shelter all winter would be the end of many a dragon, and while this too is in the version of events you were worried Duke would bring up… somehow his take feels like it doesn’t make light of those Druddigon of bygone times.
“The other Druddigon joined in and with one voice desperately echoed their companion’s plea, explaining that if they turned away, they would surely die. If not from the gods’ wrath, then from the snow. The gods were moved by their plight lingered for a moment, before one, their identity lost to time spoke up.”
This time, Duke brings his eyes to yours, and runs a paw on it, giving a small smile down at you as words that surprise you come from his mouth
“‘Stand tall, brave and noble dragons. For you have displayed unity and humility where all others before you failed, and did not yield even in the face of certain death.’”
You blink up at your mentor. You can’t tell if he’s just saying this to make you feel better or not. In tellings of this tale you’ve heard where the teller accused the Druddigon of acting craven, the gods didn’t say anything like
that to them.
“For a fleeting moment, the Druddigon were at a loss, when the other of the gods spoke up in stern warning: ‘So long as you dwell in our domains, you shall never claim this land as its masters but defend it on our behalf. You shall live amongst our other servants as equals. They shall be your allies and you shall be theirs,’” the Mienshao continued. “And so they lowered their heads and marched forth, and took their place among Dragonspiral Tower’s guardians.”
The Mienshao stoops down and pats at your children’s crests, before turning to you with a knowing smile.
“Considering how there’s Druddigon that live out there to this day, I’d think that they’ve done a pretty good job so far,” he says. “Don’t you think, Neela?”
You should probably be more annoyed at the way Duke undercut your story, but at the same time, even if it could’ve done without some of the less flattering details, it has its own charm. Like your own that you’ve passed on to your children, it’s a story of a lineage to be proud of: courage and unity winning your ancestors an honor most Pokémon could only dream of.
Your children are tired now and your elder child is now pawing at his eyes, while your second stretches out against the carpet, before looking up with a curious murmur.
“Wait, but Duke? There weren’t any Mienshao in that story at all,” he remarks. “Were they not there already when the Druddigon came?”
You stiffen up at your child’s question. Even as it is told among its Druddigon, the story of how
Mienshao came to be is one that doesn’t reflect them at their finest. About how for all their strength and valor, they ultimately needed help making good on their duties in the midst of winter’s chill. Duke sees your tension, with a chuckling shake of his head, he opts to spare you further embarrassment for tonight.
“That’s a story for another night, little one,” your mentor says. “You look tired, and it’s important for a young dragon like you to stay warm and rest on a cold night like tonight.”
The Mienshao gets up and drifts off, for his own corner elsewhere in the house that he claims in at night. You settle in with your children, curling up together beside the fire as your Second of Two paws at your chest and looks into your eyes.
“I liked your version of the story more, mom,” he tells you. “Though will we ever get to go to that tower ourselves?”
You look down, and nuzzle at your child as a knowing smile comes over your maw.
“We will, sweetie. When you and your brother are a bit older.”
You curl up with your children beside the fire and begin to drift off. For a fleeting moment, you wonder to yourself… between your story and Duke’s, which of the two is closer to the truth? Duke’s version of the tale you knew is apparently closer to the ones most others tell, so does that mean that your wasn’t right?
You think back to Duke’s reassurance at the end and ultimately decide to leave things be. Whatever really happened, those Druddigon won the gods’ trust in the end.
It is a lineage you and your children carry, and one that you all can be proud of.
