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Pokémon (PMD) Between the Mountains and the Sea

zion of arcadia

too much of my own quietness is with me
Pronouns
she/her
Partners
  1. marowak-alola
Between the Mountains and the Sea

Seafolk’s guild was not spoken of alongside the greats—even its own members could attest to that. But between a town that hates them and the threat of larger guilds coming to subsume them, they'd better think of some way to pull themselves together or else be dissolved. Fortunately, that’s not Solder’s problem, not when all he needs is to pick up the shattered remains of his memory and move on. Yet things can only get more complicated and it seems that for every reason he has to leave, another tells him to stay.
Ah, here's the PMD fic I've been threatening myself to release for a while. It's a little low-key and meandering, but there are enough bright spots to say I still like it. Anyways, I've banked something like a completed arc, sixty-thousand words and nine chapters in and I'm hoping to release them every week or so while I work on my other fic. Enjoy!

General warning for violence, swearing and adult themes. Death, references to abuse and alcoholism, self-esteem issues, anxiety, and general mental health issues. Finally, friends and non-friends being cruel to each other.


Part One

Chapter One
The Sea



Solder lay on a bench in the shade, the storm in his gut just quelled enough to open his eyes.

So he did. Unfortunately, the bench he lay on faced the ocean.

Solder groaned and shut his eyes again. He slumped back and took a deep breath. The wet slats weren’t pleasant on his spine, but it was better than standing. Or laying on the puddle-riddled stone harbour, instead. As if taunting him, a massive wave crested over the stone pier not too many metres away, mirroring the tremendous waves sloshing through his mind. He felt his stomach lurch at the memory.

He’d never take a boat again.

An electronic crackling interrupted his groaning. He cracked one eye open. The crooked fabric overhang he slept under filled his vision, but as he craned his neck, he noticed a brown-box radio sitting on the open window beside him. Its two dials stared at him like the eyes of a child.

A boyish, enthusiastic voice leaked from it with a little sing-song intro.

“...Aaaaand good morning, Seafolk! Welcome back to the broadcast! It’s fa~bulously sunny again today and the sea—she’s faring well. For all you sea-dwellers, be prepared for weeks of fortune and prosperity and ships brimming with fish. Now, let’s diiiii~p into the harbour for a moment~”

Solder tuned out the broadcast at that, letting it fade into background noise. After a few moments, he’d finally gathered himself enough to try sitting up again.

Taking a deep breath of salty ocean air, he swung his legs over the edge of the bench and dragged himself up. The harsh glare of sunlight forced him to squint. He looked out over the gatherings of strange creatures walking across the harbour, talking in groups or sitting alone at the edge of the ocean with fishing rods cast before them. Despite sharing a ship with an odd collection of them, he still couldn’t get used to the odd mutations, vibrant colours and absurd biology. Like, one of the sailors that he chatted with on the voyage here was a living key ring—Klefki, she called herself—she looked absurd, but how could he judge? She functioned perfectly. He could barely walk.

Solder frowned. He hadn’t seen a single recognizable creature yet—including himself (a quilava, according to the sailors, who gave him worried glances when he asked)—but they all talked and acted like it was normal, so…

Best not to rock the boat on that one. Pun intended. He could shut up and pretend this was normal for a while. Still, his mind spluttered and Solder felt a flash of anger as he tried to reach even basic memories. There existed flashes of vague, unreachable objects, creatures and images that slipped through his mind like water through a sieve.

“...Now, onto guild news. Un-fortunately, Zazz, our resident froslass, resigned this morning. Many of you may have seen her battle with Guildmaster Haxorus in the valley, but, needless to say, she did not beat him! What a surprise~. Of course, this brings into question the duties of the guildmaster. Can he really throw his weight around like that? Where does it stop? Personally, I’m wondering if more shows of discipline are sneaking up on us. We’ll see~”

Solder found himself listening to the voice again, latching onto the mention of the guild before he let it drift off again.

When he’d interrogated the sailors in between bouts of seasickness, the topic of guilds popped up frequently. And with it came endless praise. Endless stories of teams they’d ferried to other continents, their triumphs, their failures, their brilliant confidence and selflessness. Valotrope, Treebow, Sanclaw: all big guild cities, thriving utopias inland that housed the bravest er… pokemon (according to klefki) in the world.

Well, they certainly sounded impressive, but Solder had to wonder why nobody mentioned that Seafolk had a guild.

Half the sailors had, at one point, applied to enter a guild. None had succeeded. Klefki wasn’t shy about crying—literally crying, which sounded faintly like windchimes being shaken—on his shoulder as she shared that. They’d done written exams, interviews, background checks, battles.

He glanced at the masses wandering across the pier. One hulking, bipedal alligator-looking thing stomped by, giving him a sidelong glance before snorting and turning away. Solder barely caught the disarming flash of knife-sharp fangs as it grinned.

He shuddered, a sudden chill cutting through him.

He’d be torn to shreds.

Solder sat up as the radio continued to ramble behind him. He hopped off the bench, his stubby, alien paws meeting the ground with a splash. Water soaked him up to his ankles and he instantly wanted to get back into the sunlight.

He left the shaded bench behind without a second glance, spit into the warm sunlight and open streets of Seafolk.

Wandering around the busy pier on all fours proved to be awkward even without motion sickness bogging him down. Not the mechanics of it—he had no problem putting his legs forward in the right order or weaving his surprisingly flexible body around the crowds—but he was so short. Pretty much every pokemon was taller than him as he walked.

Feeling slightly shaken and pinned under the gaze of so many pokemon, Solder turned to the first street he came across, leaving the noisy pier behind. He breathed a sigh of relief as he left. The street was narrow and much less busy than the pier.

The city seemed built on a hill. The laid bricks and boards by the pier becoming trodden dirt the further into the city they went. They sloped up as well, going on until they, along with the city’s buildings, trailed off into the mountains and cliffs surrounding.

Solder was impressed by the architecture. Every house was erected as a block, kept up by wooden pillars and stone foundations. Few had glass windows, instead using thick wood slats or swinging planks to cover them. Each building connected to the street with massive, arching doorways that even the largest pokemon could fit through. Not many had second or third storeys, but those that existed were small, becoming progressively less massive until the top floors looked like garden sheds from the street.

As Solder strolled up the dusty street, he puzzled over the mess of T-shaped poles and platforms that reached from the slanted rooftops. There he saw a group of intimidating blue birds, long tail feathers jutting behind them in impressive Vs, roosting on the platforms. He squinted at them, wondering if they were just simple birds or if they could talk like everything else.

Then they burst into a chorus of laughing caws that echoed through the street. The biggest one flung its wings open, gesturing widely to the group. It brought another round of laughter. Solder shook his head and turned away, back to the street. Unfortunately, with another look, none of the buildings screamed ‘guild’.

Okay, fine. Time to ask for help.

He huffed and searched for a pokemon that didn’t look like it would kill him, passing over a group of intimidating monsters lurking in the wide arch of the building next to him. He scampered further up the street, turning the first chance he got; another row of stacked houses met him, this time sandwiching a square of overgrown trees, vines and shrubs that spilled out into the street. Pokemon milled about the street, but the park lay empty aside from a roundish pokemon with long rabbit-like ears sprouting from its head. Solder recognized this one, actually—it was an azumarill, like one of the sailors he talked with on the ship. She stood in the shade of a tree, seemingly content watching the pokemon pass by.

“Excuse me?” Solder waved as he entered the park. She didn’t respond. “Hey!”

One of her large ears twitched and she turned towards him. As their eyes met and Solder opened his mouth to speak, a brief spark of… something passed her face. And then it left. Not because she schooled her expression or smiled, she simply left. One moment they shared awkward half-smiles, the next she loped into the street, the blue orb at the end of her tail bobbing behind her.

Solder could do nothing but stare at the shaded patch of dew-grass she used to occupy, mouth open as if trying to find the words he was trying to say. He ran his tongue across his teeth. They felt sharper than they should.

“Fine.” He grumbled, turning back to the crowds in a huff. “Alright. Cool..”

Wandering around led him behind trails of creatures, all gathering around a set of open streets. He stumbled through the crowd and Into a bustling marketplace, with colored awnings arching between the buildings above him and a swarm of multicoloured pokemon crowding around wooden stalls jammed in the wooden buildings that framed them. The noise of it rivalled the colours, all manner of voices, crass and musical rang out over the crowd. None of it appealed to Solder at all.

For a second Solder thought to spare himself, to turn around and give up, but a thought struck him as he watched a fish-seller chat up a customer, waving him off with a brown wrapped package and a grin.

So he sighed and bore the noise, scampering around a passing pair of pokemon. Then he raised himself from four legs to two so he could look at his options.

The shops across the street were stocked mostly with produce. A wide array of herbs crowded together, overflowing from their boxes. They were the busiest stands. Absolutely crowded, pokemon all shoving past each other to get the best products. Further down, more pokemon hawked products in shaded tents with bits of jewelry and other trinkets hung around them. The rest of the market was just… fish. Solder didn’t notice at first, but most of the market consisted of buckets and trays of dead fish—none of which he recognized—sitting in beds of crushed ice.

He supposed it made sense for a seaside town, but as he sniffed the air—finally noticing the sharp, briny scent—he couldn’t help but shrink away.

Spotting a promisingly empty jewelry tent, Solder dropped back to his feet and skirted through a gap in traffic, silently thanking his nimble frame as he narrowly brushed a massive, scaled leg. He ignored the subsequent shout as he slipped past a group of chatting cats sharing an awning.

The shopkeeper looked like a walking sunflower, with a happy narrow-eyed face plastered in the centre of the radiating yellow petals. Solder didn’t bother trying to understand how that worked—or the way she manipulated her leaf-arms to hook and unhook the accessories from her wall. He reminded himself of the key ring he talked to on the ship, fought the urge to slam his head into the table, then cleared his throat.

“Hey, can you help me? I’m looking for the guild.” He thought about standing and bringing himself eye-level with her, but the moment of hesitation she held before speaking kept him on all fours.

“Why on earth would you want to go to our guild and not inland?” She said in a soft hum, before turning back to her work. “They’re not so friendly up here, honey. Ohhh, but I heard on the radio that Treebow’s guild is simply lovely in springtime—what with all those flowers. And such a nice stroll up the valley. Hmmm...” She trailed off with another hum, finishing her work with a pleased clap of her leaves and stepping back up to the counter.

Maybe she didn’t expect Solder’s completely flat expression, but her smile dipped a bit as she locked eyes with him.

“I guess you didn’t hear me, I wanted to go to this guild, not Treebow. In fact, I never even mentioned Treebow. Maybe I should’ve screamed,” Solder said, a soft venom to his voice. “But, okay. Yeah, yeah, trees, flowers, whatever—can you give me directions or not?”

“Oh, honey, maybe you should calm down first. I know how your type…” She gestured to him with a leaf. “...tend to get.”

“You don’t know me. And I’m not upset.”

“Sure, honey. Maybe I can help you later. After this customer.”

Then she simply ignored him, turning to another pokemon Solder hadn’t noticed had snuck up beside him. He clenched his teeth. The creature (taller than him, with a pair of scythes for arms) took his place and hit him with a side-eye. He let his irritation out in a laboured sigh, nodded and turned back to wait and watch the street.

There was no neighbouring stall across the street. So, with nothing to stop for, all the stray pokemon passed by like the swing of a metronome—back and forth, back and forth. Solder leaned against the shopkeeper’s table, happy for the moment to relax. But the more he counted, the more time passed with the sunflower’s enthusiastic conversation melting into the background noise, and the more he felt his irritation evaporate with nothing to spend it on. He let out a wide yawn. His muscles went slack and he found himself half-laying on the table. Soon enough, his eyes fluttered closed…

But a shrill squeal pierced through the crowds. Solder jerked awake, slamming his elbow on the table with a jolt of pain. He flicked his attention to the offender. There, across the street, some sort of yellow rat with a big wedge of teeth jutting from her muzzle sat on the dusty ground, clutching a brown bag against their side. Jewelled pins lined her shoulder-strap. They scrambled to their feet, scolding the orange, two-tailed weasel who must’ve knocked them over.

Mostly, Solder was fascinated by the… yellow swim floaty wrapped around their neck. Paranoid little weasel.

He started to lose interest as the mouse further overreacted. She whined in the same annoying squeal, she huffed, she flailed as if the light coat of dust she’d taken from being knocked over was toxic. Solder couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Not only at the mouse, but with how the weasel made a big show of apologising in a sickly-sweet tone of voice, patting her on the shoulder like a child—which she tried in vain to shrink away from.

Then they parted. Solder was just about to brush it off, turn, and make another go at the sunflower, but something caught his eye. While the mouse’s bag-strap once had a neat row of gems pinned to it, now half—a good eight or so—were missing. Solder blinked once, not believing the weasel could’ve pulled it off so seamlessly, but…

No, they were gone.

And the weasel had just reached the thicker crowds up the street.

Solder considered saying something, but… well, he didn’t really care that much about some stolen jewellery. Still, a nagging voice lurking in the back of his mind. Imagine if he showed up to the guild with a criminal in tow. It was just a petty criminal, sure, but his resume was a big, fat nothing right now. He’d take anything.

Solder took a quick glance back to the shopkeeper, still chatting away endlessly. It’s not like she was going anywhere.

With that, he took off, following the blaring yellow collar as it bobbed through the crowds. He lost sight as they turned a corner and, for a second, Solder paused. The weasel simply disappeared. Solder blinked, glancing around some scattered groups of pokemon in the otherwise empty street for a telltale flash of colour. For a while he was stumped. Then he noticed an alley—or, more of a construction error between houses. Any pokemon too much bigger than Solder wouldn’t be able to fit.

He crept up, peeking around the corner.

If Solder hadn’t followed him, the alley might’ve been paradise for the thief. It was easy to skip over, easy to hide in. But instead of leading to another street, a heaping pile of broken furniture and scrap blocked the end. And there, crouched on an upturned wooden crate, the weasel examined his spoils, a grim frown on its muzzle.

Perfect.

Solder stepped around the corner and into the alley, blocking the only exit.

Only to realise he hadn’t thought of a plan.

“Hey, you… stop,” he said, good criminal-stopping words lost on him. He couldn’t muster up the enthusiasm for it either, so his voice came weakly, like he was reciting a speech. “Drop the pins, weasel.”

The weasel looked up, blinking owlishly.

“Weasel? Wow, I haven’t heard that one since I was just a little scamp chasing after fish in the bay. You need some better material, kid; it’s bui-zel.” He winked and gave Solder a crude smile, but after a second it dropped. “Hey, wait—you’re a bit of a weasel yourself, aren’t you?”

Solder blinked. He looked down at his long, furry torso. Was he?

“That’s not important,” he huffed, letting his shoulders slump.

“And you can’t just accuse me of something like that! What proof do you have?”

“I saw it.” Solder pointed at his eyes with a nubby paw, then he glanced back over the pins sitting on another crate beside the weas— ah… buizel. “I still see it, actually.”

The buizel hesitated for a moment, the twin tails behind him spinning slowly. Then he followed Solder’s gaze, slowly, slowly, until he reached the pins. He must’ve just remembered they were there because, with a quick flick of his paw, he knocked them to the dirty alley floor.

“Woah, how’d those get there? Haha!” He chuckled awkwardly. Solder returned the buizel’s forced smile and shrug with a flat scowl. “That’s so weird! Anyways, I’ll be going, now. Got… important… things to do, ya’know?”

The buizel stood, dusted himself off and started a casual stroll towards Solder, stopping once he noticed that Solder had advanced further and stood up, bracing himself against both walls of the alley in a makeshift barricade.

“No, I think you’ll be going with me.” Solder said, forcing his voice deeper. Inwardly, he was faintly happy with the way the buizel held his paws up to his chest and stepped back. Solder’d intimidated him, at least a little bit.

It was a much better line than before, to be fair.

“What, you wanna battle?” the buizel said, shaking out of his hesitation and crouching. “I’m game.”

Solder raised an eyebrow. While he thought he could certainly take the other pokemon, he’d rather not have to fight. Ever. Luckily, he had a much better idea.

“What if I just scream?” Solder asked and the buizel hesitated again. “Like: ‘Help, this monster’s attacking me!’ or something?”

“Umm… don’t?”

By the way the buizel’s eyes widened and his tails’ spinning slowed to a stop, Solder knew he couldn’t resist the idea. With a glint in his eye, he took a deep breath through his nose. Then he let it out in a harsh shout.

“HELP! Help, he’s—“

Solder was cut off as the buizel lunged, slamming into him, eliciting a winded ‘oof’ and knocking them both to the ground in a tangle of limbs. While Solder lay, stunned, beneath the buizel straddling him, he felt two paws wrap around his muzzle and hold it in a firm clamp.

He blinked the stars from his eyes and squinted at the shaky smile of the buizel looming above him.

“Okay! Okay, um… let’s just calm down. If I let go, will you scream again?”

Solder nodded. The buizel’s smile dropped completely. He shifted on top of Solder.

“Oh.” His jaw clamped shut with a sharp clack. Solder jerked back and forth beneath him, struggling to get free.

The buizel grunted and put more pressure on Solder’s chest, forcing a jolt of pain through his lungs, exhaling harshly into the paws clamped around his muzzle. The buizel opened his mouth again.

Then Solder watched his pupils dilate, catching on something at the mouth of the alley. The sharpness of a brief exhale echoed from behind Solder and he craned his neck, struggling to wrench himself from the buizel’s grasp. Still, he managed to catch an upside-down glimpse of another yellow duck standing behind them, a deep spark of fear in its eyes.

“I’m not kidnapping him!” The buizel snapped, jerking backwards without releasing Solder. “I’m not! We’re just— wait, no! Not that! Ah— wow, there’s really no way to make this look good, is there?”

The duck didn’t look like it had been listening at all. It took a tentative step back, then one more; then that turned into a sprint.

Solder couldn’t help but snicker under the buizel’s weight. He and the buizel shared a look—one uneasy, one amused.

Though that amusement didn’t last long. This was… certainly not how Solder imagined this going, but if someone else got involved, he bet they’d just steal his thunder. Give him a pat on the back, maybe, then take the buizel off his hands.

Taking advantage of the buizel’s momentarily stunned state, Solder finally managed to wrench his face from the vice grip holding it.

“Wait!” He said, before the buizel could jerk forward and catch him again. “I’ll be quiet. Let’s just talk, alright?”

The buizel kept his paws up as if waiting for Solder to bite, but after a moment of nothing he reluctantly dropped them, dropped his guard, and nodded. Solder took the opportunity to push himself off the ground. The buizel tumbled off him with a startled yelp, hitting the alley floor and laying stunned on his back for a moment before he scrambled deeper into the alley.

“Look, I don’t really care about the pins that much,” Solder said.

“What? Then why did you cause a scene?”

“It was funny.”

Solder didn’t smile, but he wanted to as he watched the buizel’s bemused expression grow. Then the other pokemon shook it off, forced a smile and cleared his throat. Solder noticed the way his tails spun more vigorously behind him.

“W-well then. What can I do for a… fine mon like you?” The buizel tried for a casual lean against the wall. It didn’t work, mostly because his orange fur was a matted mess of dirt. It looked more yellow than orange. “If you want a cut, I’m telling you now I’m not selling the spoils.”

Solder paused, actually needing to think about the question. What he wanted was to get credit for catching a thief, which the guild could apparently help with. Except, he still didn’t know where the guild was.

Right. He forgot about that.

So maybe his plan wasn’t very well thought out. Or thought out at all. Although…

“Can you take me to the guild?” Solder said.

For a second—where the buizel scrunched up his muzzle and gave Solder an odd look—Solder thought he saw through it, but as quickly as it came, it left.

“What?” The buizel stood up from the wall. “That’s it? Sure. You won’t tell anyone if I do, right?”

“Yeah.”

No.

The buizel’s smile returned with a vengeance. He sauntered over to Solder, trying to slip by him and out the mouth of the alley. It was a nice try, but Solder managed to wrap an arm around the buizel’s shoulders—just enough to catch him if he tried to run. Still, the other pokemon didn’t seem to mind as they walked out of the alley together, practically conjoined with how close they were.

“Alright! I’m Larcen, by the by,” the buizel said, returning Solder’s favor by throwing his own arm around the quilava. Solder grunted under the weight and the irritating scratch of the buizel’s dust-stiff fur against his face. “May I know the name of my co-thief?”

“Solder.” He didn’t bother to dignify that last part.

“Weird name.”

Solder just bit his tongue.

~(0)~

There wasn’t a chance in the world Solder would’ve found the guild on his own. Not only was it not in the city, it was a kilometre out, through winding dirt paths that snaked around and over cliffs, until they converged and cut through a valley. According to Larcen, this was the only way out of Seafolk on foot.

The flat roof of a gatehouse greeted Solder and Larcen in the distance, over a hill, and Solder breathed a sigh of relief. After a long day, the sight was a blessing. It helped that the mountains were quiet and awash in a fresh breeze that welcomed him to his destination.

They chatted all the while. Solder tried to resist, at first, but Larcen eroded him over the course of a thousand words. He went on about Seafolk, mostly. Solder didn't have much to say. He just gave vague half- truths and shrugs.

But by holding his tongue, he learned nothing. So he talked. Latched onto easy, mundane details.

“I got a lot of pokemon tiptoeing around me in town.” He asked, strolling beside Larcen. They’d stopped dangling off each other as they entered the valley. Now, Solder glowered at Larcen’s back as the buizel waded in the neck-high grasses growing from the cliff base, picking flowers as he passed. “A merchant was talking about ‘my type’, whatever that means. Do I look like a punk to you?”

Larcen turned, staring at Solder with a quirked eyebrow. His whiskers twitched. A limp bouquet of irises dangled from his paw.

“It’s ‘cause you’re a firestarter,” he said. Then he gave a small smile, as if what he said made sense.

Solder looked at himself with a frown. What was different about him? Were all quilava arsonists here? Did that make all buizel thieves? Solder waited until they were on the road again before talking, letting the awkward silence simmer between them. He stared at the back of Larcen’s head, watching it bob through the flowers.

“How can anyone tell I’m an arsonist? Not that I am, of course, but you seem to think so.” Solder said.

Larcen paused, turned, and gave him an open-mouthed stare.

Maybe he shouldn’t have asked that.

“You— “ Larcen’s voice came as a whisper. He composed himself. “Are you okay? You know what you are, right?”

“A quilava. I’m confused, not stupid.”

“Yeah, but… your type?”

Solder froze, staring off into the mists swirling in the valley, past the guild. Type… type… had he heard anything about type? It sounded like a judgement of personality, but maybe it was a little more significant.

So Solder stammered for a few moments, feeling like his brain was stuck in sap.

“Ars— heat… heat type. No! Fire! Fire makes sense. Fire type.”

Solder turned back to Larcen. Needless to say, the buizel’s tense muscles and confused frown were not reassuring.

“Okay…” he drawled. “What type am I?”

Any pride that warmed Solder’s chest at the ‘okay’ fled as he looked at the buizel. He bit his lip and tried to think.

I’ve got no clue. What type is a thief? Stealing type? That swim-ring collar of his might be a clue, but what type can’t swim?

“Umm… land?”

Larcen smiled, but it barely breached his cheeks.

“Wow, you might be stupid, then. That’s not even a type.”

“How would you know?”

“There’s only eighteen of them. I’m water.”

That explains the fins...

“Why the collar, then? Weird fashion choice; can’t you swim?”

Larcen grinned, giving his collar a firm tug.

“I can’t take it off. It’s a part of me, actually.”

Solder hummed and turned away, avoiding Larcen’s suspicious smile. Maybe it was best he shut up for a while; the last few minutes have been nothing but him putting his foot in his mouth over and over again. He burned up beneath his fur despite the light breeze. He didn’t know anything about himself before the ship, but somehow he got the impression he wasn’t used to being put on the spot like this—being so ignorant he couldn’t understand the most obvious concepts.

“You okay, Solder? This is getting less funny and more sad.”

Solder thought about it for a while, the scuffing of his feet across the dirt path and Larcen rustling through the grass melting into background noise. Eventually, the guild became more than a flat-roofed gatehouse as they grew closer. Now, Solder spotted some jutting wooden structures hanging from a particularly large cliff behind it, framed by windows carved into the lower cliff face.

As tempted as he was to deny anything was wrong, to keep lying forever, he realised that he’d already failed, to no one's surprise, least of all his own. But eventually he’d have to trust somebody, and it wasn’t likely Larcen would forget about that one weird pokemon that knew nothing about anything.

All of a sudden a faint, irritating spark of guilt clogged Solder’s throat. He coughed.

Fine…

“Look,” Solder said, letting his frustration out in a weary sigh. “I woke up a couple weeks ago, beaten nearly to death, remembering nothing—not even my own name—and being shipped to… well, here. It’s not a big deal or anything, just... confusing and frustrating and terrible.” He took a deep, deep breath, the pressure high enough he felt like a balloon. Then he let it slip out through his nose. It felt hotter than it should as it passed over his chest.

Larcen winced and clicked his tongue once, the sharp sound barely reaching Solder.

“That… sucks. I kinda feel bad now,” Larcen said.

“Don’t. It’s not your fault.”

“Nah, not for that.” Larcen toyed with his whiskers, his pace slowing to a crawl. He refused to elaborate beyond that, even as the duo walked in silence.

At this point, the wide, arching doorway of the guild crept out from behind the gatehouse, into Solder’s vision. Created from massive stone bricks, it looked plain besides the illegible runes marking the top of it.

“If you want to know about types, I can give you a nice little catch-up when we get in the guild. For now…” Larcen smiled and held out his fistful of drooping violets.

Solder glared at them. What was he supposed to do? Eat them?

He plucked one and gave it a sniff. It smelled like grass and sugar.

“Am I supposed to feel better, now? What’s the point of this?”

Larcen didn’t take back his hand. His smile froze a moment too long.

“It’s an apology, I guess. Thought I’d trick the foolish newcomer, but oops, he has head problems! And now who’s the fool?” He pointed to himself and rolled his eyes. “Me, like usual.”

It took entirely too long for Solder’s brain to catch up, looking from Larcen to the guild, then back again. Then back again…

“You—”

“That’s right! Welcome to Seafolk guild, home of me! And other pokemon, too, but I’m obviously the most important.”

Larcen’s cheeky wink did nothing to soothe Solder’s pounding heart and grinding teeth. The heat in his chest boiled. He raised himself up on two legs and opened his maw to say something, to spit maybe.

Instead, when his lips parted a spurt of red-hot flame licked across the paw clenching Larcen’s violet, charring it in an instant, spilling out across his fist and swallowing it in a blanket of fire. He yelped and threw himself back, hitting the dirt wide-eyed as he shook his paw, desperately willing the fire to…

It vanished. Actually, it was never there. There was no searing heat, just the faintest hint of it. The tan fur on his paw was just… ruffled. Mildly.

“Uh…” Anger gone, Solder looked to Larcen.

“Yeah, that’s the whole ‘fire type’ thing I was talking about.” Larcen said. Then, noticing the still-smoldering flower lying in the dry grass, spat a stream of water at it as casually as a snap of the fingers.

That was about the moment Solder’s brain melted.

“That’s… not possible.”

“Yes… it… is?”

Solder clambered back to his feet and crawled to the flower—now sad and petalless and dripping—sniffing it as if it wasn’t real. He turned to Larcen and wrinkled his brow, waiting. For what, he didn’t know. An explanation, maybe, but Larcen only shrugged and Solder let out a hot breath through his nose; no flames escaped this time.

Right, this is how things were. No matter who he was and what was impossible to him, the world would work without his permission.

So he just let it simmer in the back of his mind.

“So what’re ya here for?” Asked Larcen. Solder paused, raising an eyebrow at him.

“You couldn’t have just told me?”

“It was funny.”

Solder decided it was best to just breathe. Sit there, take in some clean air and calm the nausea and frustration and quaint little urge to do violence to a weasel.

He looked around. He’d barely noticed, but they’d reached the foot of the gatehouse. It was a flat-roofed wooden building with more heavy wooden slats barring the windows, floating a good inch above a desk that stretched across the outside. It looked like some kind of border control booth, complete with a sliding gate beside it—stretching across the gap between the gatehouse and the cliff beside it.

“You wanted our help with something, right? And as an… ah apology for leading you on, I’ll take you on now, instead of putting you through the whole rigmarole, y’know?” Larcen continued, leaning in and giving Solder a condescending pat on the back.

Solder had half a mind to bite his hand. He huffed and focused on more important things.

“So this is the guild, huh?” Solder squinted at the entrance beyond the gate—the blocky stone arch etched with strange runes. “What’s that say?”

Solder dreaded the sharp, inhaled hiss Larcen let out beside him.

“Just ‘Seafolk Guild.’ Can’t you read?”

Great. Can’t read either. Can act, can’t read, what’s even the point of trying?

“Is there a cliff I can jump off around here?” Solder snapped.

Larcen let out a dry chuckle. He patted him once again, which transitioned into a warm arm around his neck. Solder groaned under Larcen’s weight.

“Slow down a bit, kid.”

“I’m older than you.”

“Eh, you don’t know that.”

Solder gave up at this point, just leaning into the buizel and letting him lead the way. Closing his eyes and just breathing. He could pretend it worked, but really it left him shaking like a leaf in a storm.

“I want to join the guild,” Solder said. Larcen stopped.

“Really?”

There was a faint hint of disbelief to his voice, just a whisper under his tone. Solder simply shrugged under Larcen’s arm and nodded slowly.

“I can probably make it happen. You’re sure, though? You were looking around town for the guild so you’ve probably heard… things…”

He just sighed and nodded again.

“Alright!” Larcen unlatched himself from Solder and clapped his paws together. “Come on, we need some help to open the gate.”

Larcen wandered off, letting Solder trail behind. He sauntered around the corner of the gatehouse, then back. He ambled around a pile of rocks. Finally, he let out a sharp cry as he rustled through a scraggly Laurel bush on a little outcropping overlooking the road. Solder, who’d been right behind him, narrowly avoided trodding on the buizel’s tails as stepped forward, sidling against the scratchy branches and wax leaves of the bush. Two new pokemon sat there. One, a black-and-blue lion lazing about in an empty patch of grass; and the other, a tall, graceful creature with a flowing white dress and a crop of green hair.

“There you are! Solder, meet Veille luxray and Auloin gardevoir, they’re some other guild members.”

The tall one—the gardevoir, from Larcen's point—turned to face him. She had a clipboard in her hands and a flat, unimpressed look on her face. Her other hand clutched a stick of charcoal, the dusty black smearing against her hand.

“Where did you come from?” Auloin said, her voice monotonous but with an odd edge, like she was waiting to cut him with it. “You couldn’t possibly have come through the valley. We would’ve noticed. Certainly not through the mountains. Veille?”

The luxray—who Solder only now noticed had been sleeping—grumbled and rolled over. She blinked and yawned widely, showing off her fangs. Solder grimaced as the sunlight glinted off them, like a mouthful of little mountains.

“I was watching…” Veille grumbled, then turned to face Solder and Larcen. Her eyes were piercing and gold, sharp even through tired tears. “Oh. Hello,” she said. Then she turned back over, stretched out and relaxed into the grass again. “Sorry about my disposition. I’m nocturnal. Gives me an edge. You know, a healthy luxray sleeps eighteen hours a day.”

Larcen turned to Solder and rolled his eyes as if the quilava was in on the joke.

“That’s great, Veille, but we need—“

“That’s hardly true,” Auloin cut in, leaving Larcen’s mouth flapping open, “a healthy luxray only needs twelve hours. Besides, what possible advantage could you gain from a nocturnal lifestyle rather than a diurnal one—You’re apex, even in the current ecosystem where your prey is immobile and your territory drawn on deeds.” Auloin hummed and tapped the stick of charcoal in her hand on her clipboard, then pointed it at Solder. “Now, considering I haven’t missed any travellers coming into Seafolk—which I doubt I have—I can only assume you came by boat.”

Solder stared down the length of her charcoal stick as it hovered centimeters from his nose. It seemed to stare back.

“Yeah?”

“Heh,” Veille huffed, “a quilava on a boat. That’s a good one.”

Solder flashed back to his time on the boat. All that time spent hunched over a sick bucket or in bed, eating gruel and trying desperately to fall asleep so the nightmare would pass quicker. In his mind, a wave crashed over the harbour and he felt the sudden urge to retch.

“Oh, yeah,” he drawled, dipping his voice and glaring at the back of Veille’s head. “I was laughing the whole way here.”

Larcen took the moment to jump in.

“Yeah! Haha, good joke. Very funny. Listen, Auloin we need you for just a sec—“

“Oh! Veille.” Auloin jumped up, her eyes flashing a bright pink. “Someone’s coming down the path.”

Sense?

Veille grumbled and cracked a single eye open. The motion lasted half a second before she closed it again, but Solder swore he saw a sliver of golden light slip from under eyelid.

“Hmmm… one serperior. Two servine. Goodnight; try not to wake me up again.”

Auloin quickly scribbled something on her clipboard, but Solder barely noticed, taking a sudden interest in the road, too busy peeking through a gap in the spindly branches surrounding him. There, framed in a little window created by the yellow-green leaves, a group of pokemon passed along the trail—a long, green snakelike one pinned between two smaller snakes. Snakes, with legs.

“Uh… yeah,” Larcen said, smoothing out his whiskers, “Speaking of awesome powers, could you open the gate for us?”

“If that’s what you wanted, why didn’t you say so earlier?”

Larcen groaned. Veille yawned. Solder ignored them, wishing he could sleep like the luxray stretched out on the grass. The same pink glow as earlier returned to Auloin’s eyes and, although the effect wasn’t immediately obvious, soon a faint, hollow grinding sound emanated from behind him. He turned just in time to watch the gate slide open—nestling itself behind the gatehouse.

Solder did his best not to let his persistent headache lay him out. Or his jaw hit the floor. It was fine. Everything was fine. Lions can see through walls! Weasels can spit elements! Telekinesis exists! He was certain these things weren’t supposed to happen, but he couldn’t fashion a single reason why not. And now the fresh mountain air started to taste a bit sour.

“Okay. Alright," Solder said. "No, that’s good. Let’s get inside, I think I need to lie down.”

Solder pushed through the bush, Larcen, mumbling a goodbye to Veille and Auloin. The gardevoir waved them off without a word as they padded down the hill, Solder almost sliding down on a patch of wet grass. Larcen didn’t laugh, to his credit, but Solder still caught his smile.

“Auloin is a psychic type, that’s how—“

“No. Shut up. I’m serious about lying down. Guilds are supposed to have places to sleep, right? Just let me get some rest.”

Larcen only shrugged, unoffended.

Solder thanked him in silence and they continued walking past the open gate and gatehouse. Beyond that, before the open arch of the guild, lay a quaint little square of trodden grass and dirt. Some brick planter boxes overflowing with massive red flowers and vines and scraggly, stunted trees sat in the middle. The entire place was framed with bulletin boards. Two of them were empty, the two on the other side were plastered with notices, all scrawled with frustrating, wandering runes. Solder turned away from them.

“Here we are,” Larcen said, nearly whispering, as they passed under the stone arch. “Welcome to Seafolk guild...”

His voice echoed faintly down the long, stone-carved hallway beyond the arch. The hallway itself was dark, mostly stark beside some unlit lamps hanging from the ceiling and framed somethings that hung off the wall.

Then they reached the middle—the dark center of the hallway, where Solder couldn’t feel the sun on his back and the light from the room at the end couldn’t reach his eyes. A moment of blessed calm hit him there. He hesitated a bit and let Larcen skip ahead. It almost felt like he’d closed his eyes even though he could still see the light.

The last few seconds before the guild were spent in blissful silence.

Hello! I thought I’d pop by and give the first chapter a read, since we’ve had some pretty fun conversations on discord. And wow, what an enjoyable first chapter! Very brisk pacing, does well with setting up characters and establishing their dynamic. The dialogue and Solder’s internal observations all felt very idiosyncratic.

Solder and Larcen’s introduction was memorable too. Most fics take the easy way out and put characters in isolation to some extent, essentially forcing the mc and partner to meet, but theres just something so very urban about how it happens here, with Solder meandering lost through the city and alienated from most of the city folk. (Is it even an actual city, or just a town? I can’t remember but the vibe just screams port city to me so much, struggle to picture anything else.)

I also like how, despite how much the circumstances are out of his control, Solder tries again and again to determine his course by making his own choices, for better or for worse. It’s pitch perfect example of agency.

The opening reminded me of a poem:

That night, while he slept, the tide moved.

The long arms of the moon

Reached inside him pulling the Pacific free.

When he woke the next morning,

He lay in a puddle of ocean that was his."


—The Ocean Inside Him

It captures an emotional truth about Solder, I think. He masks it with misanthropic humor, but the boy seems to have quite a lot of self-loathing. I’m also intrigued by how often he’s associated with water despite being a fire type. To paraphrase Clarice Lispector, he’s become intolerable to himself. He lives in a lacerating duality.

The humor is quite funny. Often understated or roundabout, then suddenly acerbic sarcasm. I quite enjoyed it. There’s sort of a British sensibility to it too, especially sections like where Solder and Larcen fight and it’s a pretty pathetic showing on all sides.

I don’t have a whole lot to say about Larcen or the rest of the guild just yet, other than I found them charming. They’re easy to root for because they’re so obviously underdogs.

As for criticism… the big one is that I’m not sure what to think about Solder remarking on how weird other pokemon are. They feel like very human observations, but I’m not sure we’re meant to think that given his backstory? Or maybe I’m jumping the gun there.

I did find it a little odd when Veille and Auloin were introduced with their species names as surnames, but they weren’t capitalized. Maybe could have toned back some of the ellipses too, but that’s super minor nitpick.

So he did.

And so it goes.
 
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Part Two, Chapter Twelve: My Brother, My Foe

tomatorade

The great speckled bird
Location
A town at the bottom of the ocean
Pronouns
He/Him
Partners
  1. quilava
  2. buizel
Chapter Twelve
My Brother, My Foe


They didn’t find the mother. Not surprising, but eh. Always a chance.

Not many surprises came around her house. Not many clues or signs. True enough, a tight corner lead to her building, smuggled in a shadowy nook. Perfect for anyone in from the mountains, mostly ice types which popped up more as they got closer to the wall of hewn cliffs propping up the apartments. Here, the structures sorta tilted this and that way, lots more like the windcut mountain pines they imagined themselves as. Anyway. Mounds of slate rock and shield carried them up to the doorstep, all rubble and pebbles skipping back into the street as Seawall’s heavy footsteps rattled the floor.

He could just barely fit in the entrance door with Volaphomet on top—and she noticed the rough sawed edges of the planks suggesting it had already been sized up. Course, they stood awkwardly in an empty lobby for a bit until they realised they had no room number, but a quick chat and knock on the closest room pointed them all the way down the hallway, Seawall walking hunched over so Volaphomet didn’t conk her head on the crossbeams.

They knocked. Didn’t get a response and Volaphomet waved Seawall off as he suggested trying to get in. Turns out it wouldn’t have worked anyway, one of her neighbors came out at the sound instead, another weavile, fur flat and gray, headfeathers serrated and verging on pink. They jostled so much as she limped out that Volaphomet was tempted to pluck them. A gnarled wood cane kept her propped up.

“Not home, sorry. Hasn’t been.” She shrugged. Then ignored them, a rhythm of padded feet and a clunking cane passing by Seawall as if he were a weed. Impressive given he was twice her size.

“Hold on,” Volaphomet said.

The weavile stopped. A pattern of thuds sounded from her cane—it jittered as she stilled. Strangely eager for a bag of bones and skin.

“Waddya at? Couldn’t say where she is?”

“No,” she bit out.

“You know her?”

“Ahuh,” she said. Cut through her teeth, sharp for an old crone. “She wants to be alone.”

“And the kid?” Volaphomet pointed out. She tried to hold herself back a bit. A couple paces away from smug or accusatory. “She pokin’ around for him?”

Her walls crumbled a bit. Not much, but enough to see through and to a sadder, older weavile than the one gripping her cane like a queen. Her hand wobbled a bit, fangs nicking the grooves in her lips.

“We’re with the guild, looking to help. If you could point us in a direction—let us look around her apartment, anything,” Seawall chimed in, leaning forward to meet closer to her eyes. He didn’t make it very far, only up to her ears but boy he could be flexible. “Please. If you could.”

The weavile took a paw and wrapped it around the other, choking the knob of her cane. Strong grip didn’t keep her from thinking, though, head down and somber for the second.

“It’s for the kid,” Seawall continued.

She broke. Sighed. Gave two sharp taps with her cane.“Give me a second.”

And then stomped down the hall she came from at a scary clip. Spry for an old lady. Likely faster than volaphomet, honestly. Seawall kept more patient than the emolga, too. While she clung to his horn, leaning far forward to squint down the hall at where the weavile’d gone, he kept still as a pillar. She didn’t end up needing that much of a look. A violent knock echoed from a ways, then sharp whispers growing and growing into muffled shouts. Which cut and left the creaking of the apartment. Then came back as something a little more civil.

Volaphomet couldn’t catch a word no matter how she adjusted her ears. Didn’t matter so much when the weavile came back with a key. She shoved it into the chunky black door lock, turned and pushed open the door. The open room bathed them in the faint musk of old blankets and sap.

“You won’t find much. Anything valuable, she took.”

“Still might’ve left something,” Volaphomet said, taking a tentative peek inside. “Clues, y’know.”

“Thank you anyways. We’ll be quick,” Seawall added.

The weavile nodded heavily. She opted to stay in the hall, planting her cane in the cracking wood floor and leaning heavily against the far wall. It left her in shadow, just the glint of her eyes reminding Volaphomet that she was watching.

Volaphomet screwed her face into a stern frown, trying to dig to the centre of the situation. Absent mom. Lost kid. Deserved her game face. She patted Seawall on his plates and urged him forward, under the shadow of the door and into an aged-smelling apartment.

This kinda empty place that’s not supposed to be empty—it had an atmosphere. Volaphomet could only tense as she entered, even feeling Seawall rumble uncertainly beneath her. Everything seemed in its right place, but sat awkwardly. Two chairs stood, skewed and quiet framing a lopsided wooden table—all under a grimy window that let in the suggestion of light but not much else. Two bowls still sat on the table, a little dust around the rim. That made up the dining room and kitchen, which was just a counter and board beside it, hidden in a dark corner. Volaphomet lingered in the shadows there. And the dark mass at the back of the couch right centre of the room, with some shelves and wooden boxes and scattered toys and knicknacks—ol’ carved stone animals she recognised Hiudix chippin’ at sometimes.

Seawall took some tentative steps around, huffing slow breaths, craning his head this way and that so Volaphomet could hunch over his brow and scan the area. Around the corner, a short hall led to a bedroom. And beside, a closet shut by a heavy-looking reclaimed barn door. Odd, but the whole place seemed thrown together. No two bits of furniture seemed carved from the same wood.

“Ya sees anything?” Volaphomet whispered. She barely meant to, it just came out like that.

“Nothing unusual,” he responded. He raised an arm, sliding it up to his horn with a dull whine. Volaphomet blinked. “You want off? Might find something if you’re a little closer. I can take the bird’s eye.”

Ah. Volaphomet sniffed. Placed a paw on his thumb and drew tentative circles over the rough ridges detailing his skin while he waited. She feared this. Always. Not like she hated being small or whatever, just meant she always had to look out for danger, always had to keep a bit of static in her in case a stray foot came swinging around some corner. Which kept her muscles sore and powers weak. She didn’t mind so much usually, with just the boys, but ehh…..

She peeked over Seawall’s arm, glaring at a pile of dustbunnies hardly peeking from a dim corner. Lots could be hiding there.

But Seawall pushed eagerly. He scratched his claws across his plates and held an open paw for her.

Frig, he always got her. Didn’t know how he always convinced her so easy.

“Fine.” She sighed. And wrapped her little paws around his wrist and let him whip her up like a loose hair and gently drop her on the ground.

She sneered feeling cracked, splintery wood beneath her paws. Not to mention the dust already herding itself to cling to her ankles and all the stray fur she could see backlit against the ground. Nothing like the clean, smooth feel of Seawall’s plates.

But he seemed to sense her hesitation.

“It’s for the kid,” he pleaded. Not gently. More like he used to when he’d caught her talking with her old gang right out of prison.

Right. She took a deep breath. Grit her teeth and focused forward. They’d find this scum and put everyone back in their place and she’d have a tangible milestone to jump off of. With a vigorous rub of the paws scattering sparks everywhere, she put her nose forward, bore against the dust and scampered on. Seawall stomped off behind her.

It had been a while since she needed to poke around nooks and crannies like this. Last time was in prison—lots of trade goods in the clink were small and unwieldy and itty bitty little things in the hands of an aggron or swampert or whatever. She ended up being a bit of an accountant. Handling berries and smokes and… y’know. Other stuff. Or if not, she’d scrounge around corners for lost bits and bobs.

Not always by choice, but she didn’t like to think about that.

Anyway, her heart pounded even just shoving her nose under the couch, whiskers twitching in wait. Not that she’d find anything, but the thought got her adrenaline goin’, muscles twitching and urging her to bolt whenever a bug toddled from around a chair leg.

She searched the couch first, then behind. Tuning over carvings and toys and kicking the lids off boxes until she unveiled a mouldy old apple inside one, flesh leathered and stinking and realised there wouldn’t be much to find and took to just poking around. Which led her across the sunken gaps where the floorboards met the walls. She managed to scrounge up a wooden die, some stray needles and thread and an old coin she took far too long staring at. Turned out what she thought were secret runes was actually just rust.

About this point, the old weavile made herself known again. Migrating into the doorframe, all confidence returned and now staring down at her like a warden.

Volaphomet scoffed, but took the hint, kicked herself into gear. She scampered around Seawall’s leg as he moved to examine the kitchen table, skimming over a crumpled napkin left forgotten under the table. When it came time to check the dreaded dust corner, she didn’t spare it more than a glance, only turned her nose up at it and moved on.

Or, she wanted to. But in the movement, a minute shine caught her eye. She paused.

She’d want to go in there, huh?

She sighed. Sidled up against the wall and tried to avoid the tumbleweeds of hair threatening to tangle around her ankles. At first, she didn’t catch what drew her eye, but craning her neck around got another glimmer—a tiny dot wedged in the crack of a floorboard.

She reached out and snatched it, wrinkling her nose as clouds of hair wrapped around her arm and hugged her chest. But with a bit of a shake and a retreat back to the lit centre of the room, she got a chance to examine her clue.

Looked almost like a pebble at first, smooth and flat, but rotating it around in the light and getting every angle revealed it to be a scale. Nubby little thing, too, but different depending on the angle; sometimes it looked dark or earthen red, sometimes jungle green, sometimes almost clear enough to see her own white fur. She hummed and let some curious sparks free.

Quite an odd thing to find in the home of a weavile.

“She get many visitors? Bedpals, y’know?” She asked, waggling her paw in the direction of the old weavile.

She curled up her lip. Took a deep, gravelly breath and huffed. “Don’t think I like the implication.”

“Somebody’s been doin’ somethin’ in her house, eh?” She held up the scale, met by an uncertain squint. “Not a weavile scale, I tells ya that much.”

“Fine. Maybe I’d like to talk to the nidoking about it,” she said, pointed and hunching her shoulders back like she could pop her spine and grow taller.

Well, darn. The old crone seemed a little more sensitive than she let on. Fine. Volaphomet waggled her paw, drawing Seawall to her.

“Not a fan of me, so it’s you instead,’ she said.

He held out his paw, massive right next to her chin. And the way the scale fit in the middle was comical—a little star in a great purple night.

“Could you check the rest of the apartment? I haven’t finished,” Seawall said. He let out a slight grin as his fist closed around the scale.

“Gots what we came for, though,” she said.

He tutted and curled up his fist, brows raised.

She avoided that somber, questioning look. Alright. Yeah, yeah. She’s got it. He could handle it, he wanted to be thorough even though they got an easy lead and she desperately wanted to catch up.

She let him talk to the old crone and scampered down the bedroom hall, eager to get back and listen in.

Lucky there wasn’t much to check. She passed the open door to the bedroom, pausing just long enough to piece together two empty cots, an empty box propped up at the head as a kinda table, and a ratty blanket folded at the foot. Not enough space to really poke around and no corners or nooks to hide anything; the bed sat right on the floor, anyway. Beside that sat the closet, leaking an old smell of rust and salt that kept her off. She knocked on the door, cracked it open to peek into the darkness, saw little more than a pile of scarves and robes and other tangled garments all piled into a mound easily bigger than her, and slid the door shut with a sharp clack.

She scampered back in time to catch the tail of their talk.

“--somebody. I dunno. From the guild, he said.”

“The guild?” Volaphomet cut in, panting from the bare run. Times like these, she wished she had Seawall’s stride.

She only got the next best thing, hooking her claws in the cracks lining his legs and drawing herself back onto his head before a fish could leap. He sighed but didn’t do much. Which meant she had final say. Perfect. She grinned just for herself.

Meanwhile, the weavile took herself a moment to breath and go back to tapping her cane.

“Yes. The guild,” she mumbled, “had a badge and everything.”

“A badge?” Seawall said. As high as his normally gravel voice could reach.

He was right to be surprised. Far as Volaphomet could remember, they’d never been given badges. She’d have to scrounge up memories years in the past, on first joining. Heck, even before, when Seawall had first pointed out a poster to her in some fringe town somewhere. Dunno how a Seafolk ad got mainland, but that’s beside the point.

“Ya sure?” She stressed, leaning forward with a serious frown. The weavile still scowled at her, but answered, at least.

“I already said. This old, chipped badge. A wave and a pair of sails. I don’t have good eye for colour anymore, but I remember seeing something like it, ways back. It's a guild badge, no doubt.”

Huh. Volaphomet tried to share a look with Seawall, but only caught the edge of his pupils over his brow. They were guild badges alright, and old ones. Maybe people around here still recognised them, but she hadn’t seen one in years.

“And who was the pokemon?

“Kecleon.”

Volaphomet coughed, tongue catching in her throat as she tried to speak. A couple sparks erupting and curling around Seawall’s horn.

“Kecleon?”

“What colour?” Seawall pressed. He shrunk down slightly to try and meet the weavile’s eyes. She held back.

“Don’t know. Told you I’m losing my colours. Dark, maybe. Cool.”

Well, dang. She knew Soleiro was trouble, but didn’t expect him to get into kidnapping quite so soon.

Seawall’s fist raised into her vision while she thought, uncurling like a flower in the sun. “Could be either Unico or Soleiro. See anything?” he asked. And nah, the colour still fled every time she turned her head. But why even ask the question? Between Soleiro and Unico, who’s in with this kinda business? Between an inconsiderate loudmouth and a sly creature she thought could be a psychopath? No contest. She let a determined grin slide back on her face, ignoring the impatient thumping from the weavile’s cane and Seawall’s worried hum.

“Well, wes gotta bag somethin’ rotten, b’y,” she said, giving Seawall a couple encouraging slaps. “Let’s get skippin’.”

So Seawall led her out, saying some quick goodbyes and letting the weavile totter off with a promise to bring back the boy safe. They marched out the apartment with purpose and fled from the dreary, mountain-shadowed East end and back onto the sloping central paths. Sunlight warmed them there. Bright and hopeful and just. Almost telling Volaphomet they’d got their breakthrough easy.

That scale may be a bad omen, a triangle stain on Seawall’s royal purple.

But it caught the light beautifully.

~(0)~

Supposedly Hiudix had also agreed to escort Alexander back to town hall. On perhaps the longest route around the city, in order for him to greet all who passed and examine the restaurants and businesses with a strange sort of concern. All for the restaurateurs, of course, who came out to watch with an equal, if not greater concern.

Azazel followed behind. Or vanished once he got bored. Hiudix could track him by the sudden jerks and disturbed downward looks in the crowd and then pretend not to know him if anyone asked.

Of course, this path had not been in the mission statement, but the one time Hiudix thought to argue, Alexander threatened to recall payment and complain. Normally money did not motivate him so much, but when that happened to be the only redeeming quality of a job, Hiudix had to make some exceptions.

So he ended up following beside silently. Trying to retain some dignity stumbling through pools for the hour or so it took to get back to the harbour.

He sighed through his nose as they turned a corner onto the bustling boardwalk and spotted the Town Hall across the way. Over the heads of sailors and fisherman lugging in nets or buckets of bait or otherwise taking a smoke in the shade of a greasy old awning.

Azazel had no such tact.

“Finally,” he whined, throwing his head back and letting his tongue flop wetly out and over his forehead. By some miracle, he seemed not to mind and before Hiudix could once again scold that he was on the job and not making them look any better, he shot forward, ducking under one of King’s thick blue fists as he made for a grab and cackled madly, weaving through a group of croconaw struggling to tie a sailboat.

Alexander combed a paw through his ruff. Tilted his crown back and drew his voice low.

“I hope you’re not planning to share the pay with that mutt.”

Hiudix resented the language, but oh how he wished he could punish Azazel in any way that mattered. He settled for staying silent and letting Alexander have no satisfaction. And then they were on their way. The crowd seemed to part for them, giving a clear path by shops and residences and straight to their destination.

The town hall itself was odd and oddly fitting. It, unlike most of the buildings around, was made of stone. And did not tower so much or really seem to accommodate anyone beside those who worked there. A swampert like King had no hope to make it through the door without injury—even Alexander would have to duck through the foyer. Clearly, it had been here long before any of them

But the door should not be Hiudix’s first mention. The thick, smooth cut limestone rock made an intimidating face for the building, even if it largely formed the shape of a brick. An ornate brick, to be certain, with columns holding up a pediment and oceanic-themed reliefs squaring off either end. It only had two floors compared to the five or six around it, but seemed ever solid in comparison and avoided the treelike nests and shedlike rooftop homes that cluttered the wooden buildings. It did not look like home.

But Hiudix might have been impressed if he had no knowledge of what it represented.

He ended up simmering under the pediment as they approached, shadow darkening his mood further.

How long had it stood here? Perhaps longer than any other building. Perhaps once, when the first settlers took stone from the old ruins because they were unable to carve their own. Long, long ago when the ruins had been free and open. Hiudix could not pretend to know why they were buried in the first place. A decaying structural integrity was his reasoning, with an obvious cause that now took the form of a chubby pink blob and his forefathers, one now strutting gut first around town.

Hiudix shook his head, huffing. He could not dwell on this and hope to stay composed for the rest of the day. Especially without the comfort of a mountain-hewn guild for the moment.

He hoped construction went quick so they could return.

In the meantime, Alexander had been watching. Waiting by the door, chin up and a pinch to his gummy lips.

“Well?” he asked, a dry nasality to it like he’d just woken up.

“What?” Hiudix responded.

Alexander waved to the door, as if his point should be obvious. When Hiudix didn’t move, he took an overdramatic breath and sighed.

“It’s open.”

“So?”

“I’d locked it.”

Hiudix would’ve liked to cut him with some snarky comment, but the implication stuck his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

He had locked it.

Hiudix had not expected Soleiro to strike so soon.

“Come on Azael,” Hiudix said, trying to keep the first shakes of panic from his tone. “Let us clear out the building.”

Azazel, who’d been winding around King’s ankles as the too-large swampert waited outside, ignored a near stomping, shot the giant a wink and cackle returned by a glare, and took quickly to Hiudix. Unfortunate. He butted past and up to the door too quickly, too. By the time Hiudix joined him the door had been thrown open and Azazel sniffed the air inside.

Hiudix struggled not to cut his claws together. He held in a curse and let the door squeak shut rather than desperately slam it. Soleiro had said he would be after Aexander’s writings, correct? Which suggested his office, especially given this being his workplace. From what he remembered, Alexander had a reputation for working by the wide, stained window overlooking the bay. Which meant the second floor.

In an effort to gain some control, he strode in front of the lobby stairwell and pointed down a random hall.

“You check the bedroom. And ah… larder.”

Azazel paused, nose still up and his concentrated tongue a worm peeking between his teeth, but he didn’t say something stupid or sprint in the opposite direction, so that had to be enough. Hiudix didn’t spare him another glance as he tore up the stairs.

He wound up taking harsh stone steps two by two, avoiding the blazing wrought sconces staining the walls black and skidding around the corner at the top. A quick sweep was all it took to spot a wide pair of double doors, barely cracked between a pair of unfurled tapestries in the middle of the hall. Hiudix ignored the clanking of his claws against the stone, and pushed on through.

The disaster was immediate and obvious. At first blush, a total ransacking, the safe conspicuously thrown open and across the floor, landing in front of a solid wood desk. It spilled its guts across the floor and covered the faux-leather top with its insides. A downy coat of white paper in this case, also hiding the tail ends of scratches carved deep into most surfaces. All of this in the brilliant light of day, streaming through the wall-to-wall window stained yellow over a picture of the sea.

Hiudix would not feel much normally. He had seen worse in his own home. That is, until he realised how staged it seemed.

He doubted the safe normally kept guard in front of the desk, yet there it was. Chalk white skids leading to it from around the corner. And out its mouth trailed an uneven line of papers. And on the desk, which at first seemed to blend in with the others, some unrolled prints sat. All carefully constructed. A breadcrumb trail.

Hiudix swallowed the lump forming in his throat. With only a moment to perk his ears and listen downstairs, he crept up to the rolls, prodded them open with his claws and let them unfurl.

They seemed not to be exciting at first glance. Development plans. Drafted by someone far more talented than Alexander, all these ink lines hopefully, almost naively straight and solid. Massive blocks of buildings, some titled—industrial sections, large, stone homes and etcetera—some left empty and open. As Hiudix scanned through these, then cast them aside and moved onto more underneath, a hazy wave of confusion cast over him. He leaned further in and let his snout wrinkle.

They were not so strange. Normal plans, as far as his experience told him. But didn’t he recognise them somehow? They were abstract, but all framed around the mountains in a specific way, all crowded into a tiny nook, all absent from the rest of town—

Oh.

Hiudix nearly bit the tip of his tongue off trying to keep his startled hiss inside.

East Seafolk. All gone, then built up again. He did not want to imagine where the pokemon were meant to go. When the denser areas were now meant to be replaced by wide streets and factories.

His brain skipped a moment. Returned. Urged him to look again. To remember that Alexander had never had any ambitions before and certainly wouldn’t start now. But frantically flipping through the rolls again revealed nothing new.

He could not even bring himself to react hearing the stomping of footsteps behind him. Or the gasp. The start of an accusation spitting from fat pink lips.

“Your mutt told me things were clear and I come back to this?” Alexander pressed.

Hiudix scanned through them once more. Then flipped to the next page, a zoom—revealing the absolute state of town in this hellish future. Not just the East End, all along the mountains, all along the ruins. Possibly more inside.

He shook his head. Dug his claws into the desk and tried not to say anything untoward. Not even his general rage at Azazel failing once again could slip out in public.

Well!?

Hiudix turned. On point, posture perfect and snout smoothed as if he’d seen nothing and didn’t imagine spearing the pink creature on his spikes.

“A burglar broke into your office,” was all he could release. One great exhale and out with all his rage.

Alexander did not look impressed. His features curled so violently they threatened to escape his face. A fat hand found its way to his belt, but to Hiudix’s great relief, his key still sat there, jangling on his hip. Somehow slipped back on while nobody noticed.

Of course that also meant Soleiro couldn’t be far, but Hiudix would not be making any attempts at him now.

“Well.” Alexander coughed. His face unscrewed only slightly, paws sliding behind his back with the grace of a slug, lording over his office as if it had any dignity left for him. He glanced at the safe. Then Hiudix. Then The plans. Then the parchment on the table, but never quite settling on something. He began walking around his desk. “I suppose you’ve seen the plans. A little too late for either of us to play pretend.”

“Indeed.” Hiudix stated simply. He let his voice unwind, recognising the invitation. That look—the venom lurking behind the slowking’s eyes—but also the way he gnawed at his lip.

So Hiudix cleared his throat. Allowed some of his own venom to slip through.

“You would lose,” he said. He let his quills perk up, stiff and ready and showering the walls with firelight.

And Alexander must know that. He flinched. Turned. searched the desk once more. Drew up a hand to scratch at the thin hairs on his chin. Let out a belaboured sigh.

“My personal reserves are gone. My developments are out in the open,” he cut out, “Oh, if only I’d trained more as a youth. Trained my body rather than my mind. My own writing’s being turned against me.”

Which meant nothing to Hiudix. Not yet. He simply waited for the end of the sentence, begged for a dismissal. Itched on his spot. He had much to do and none of it involved Alexander. Of course, Alexander gave him little, instead absently pawing through the scattered paper.

“That bastard radio host is part of the guild isn’t he? Truthfully, I don’t care who you tell so long as it's not public knowledge. And I know how it would get out—if I tune in one morning and hear even a suggestion that something’s happening on the East End, I will ruin you, understand?” he spat.

And he did understand. More than Alexander ever could. Hiudix could do nothing. He could not hurt Alexander without arrest. He could not think of a way to prevent this, and could not say anything—even to his team. Volaphomet had her own code and she would not tolerate this sort of deception.

But Hiudix also felt no change. Isn’t this how he lived anyway?

“Fine,” he said. And hoped not to express how tired he was.

“Leave. Alexander will pay you.”

Hiudix scanned his face, looking for a twitch of deceit. None came. Normally it would be unwise for the mayor to short the guild anyway. If only he knew how easy that would be amongst the guild’s chaos.

He could only hope, letting out a shaky huff and following the nervous itch begging him to leave. Go back to what’s comfortable.

But as he picked himself up and store to exit the office, he noticed a message. A torn bit of paper, evenly lined and smeared in thick black charcoal, posted on the backside of the door, right at level to his snout. He blinked. Squinted. Scanned through the text—handwritten, not one he’d recognise.

Do not thank yourself,
for you are wild and unshorn,
thank instead those whose hands have lifted you.


Hiudix pinned his ears back. Tried not to bite his tongue. These were words he recognised. Not anything he’d heard in his lifetime, even his parents had to be told by their parents. Who were told by their parents, who were told the same by the settlers who moved here.

They’d never been written out, as far as Hiudix knew. They were too ugly to sit nicely on white paper without bleeding. He couldn’t imagine his parents writing the same without their claws trembling and scouring the paper and spilling black, seeping dark into the paper.

So maybe Soleiro had just been the first. The first to ever write these words.

Hiudix’s mouth dried. He tried to swallow, but a heavy lump blocked his throat. He stumbled out of the office, ignoring the confused noise Alexander chased him off with.

Outsiders would not know. Should not, certainly.

So how could Soleiro?
 
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Adamhuarts

Mew specialist
Partners
  1. mew-adam
  2. celebi-shiny
  3. roserade-adam
Hey there, Tomatorade! I’m swinging by over here for Review tag on Writer’s United. I chose to pick this one up out of the story options you provided and gave it a shot. Having seen a lot of your spectacular artworks, this serves as a good opportunity to see your weasel bois in action in written form. Without any further ado, here we go.

First off, I like how this chapter began. Where a lot of PMD fics involving human protagonists begin with the immediate arrival, amnesia and body dysphoria—something I’m also guilty of—this story begins sort of in media res. We do get to learn that Solder also has no recollection and doesn’t know much about the pokemon world, but at the same time we’re meeting him here at least a few days after he’s probably already had the initial identity crisis. That’s a detail I quite liked.

I’ve only vaguely skimmed over the synopsis of this story in order to go in as blind as possible on what to expect, but I could quickly tell from this chapter that Guilds are obviously going to have a key focus here. The impression I got is that the story might very soon delve into political intrigue and conflicts between these guilds, if the radio broadcasts we heard are anything to go by. This excites me. While I never write much of it myself, I do enjoy me some political sleuthing in action with the way characters in position of power try to one up each other and all the scheming at play. If my hunch turns out to be wrong then that’s okay too as I already get the feeling I’ll like whichever direction you take this story.

Solder and Larcen make for a fun pair if I’m being honest, and I’m not just saying this because I’ve seen their artworks. I can’t put my finger on it, but the two really bounce off each other well. Their first meeting was really fun to read, as was Solder’s journey through the seaside town. Poor guy even experienced typism on his first day in town. Even the worldbuilding we get here was very fascinating.

All in all, there’s a whole lot of things I’ve liked about this story so far that I don’t really have a whole lot to criticize if at all. I’ll certainly be coming back for more in the future!
 
Part Two, Chapter Thirteen: My God, The Mountain.

tomatorade

The great speckled bird
Location
A town at the bottom of the ocean
Pronouns
He/Him
Partners
  1. quilava
  2. buizel
Chapter Thirteen
My God, The Mountain


With the guild being under construction, team Killpoint had to find somewhere else to sleep. Lots of other pokemon managed to pitch tents in the square, or up along the valley, or, in Veille and Auloin’s case, already had a nice little shack to take shelter in.

But Volaphomet got something a bit better than all that. A nice ol’ attic in the top of a boathouse. Seawall’s old stomping ground. Mostly, he lived in the guild now, but they still kept up the cleaning and the maintenance and the telling off of stingy seamen tryna thing upstairs.

Those cranks liked to keep their nets up there, all stinking of fish. So you gotta keep up with ‘em.

They all settled in a corner, under the angular eaves and bare hint of starlight through a crack in the wooden wall. The creaking of beams, slapping of water against the stone below, the howling of wind and gulls outside. Warmer there, in a sea of thrift blankets and pillows bought over years and years and still kept fluffed.

Everyone lounged in their own little space. Seawall took up half, but that’s noone’s fault. Big boy, he was.

And then they got to sharing. That part, Volaphomet vibrated at. She shimmied on her little throne of pillows, her sparks wild and untamed and keeping the others a couple steps back no matter how she tried to keep them back.

“Soleiro’s fer the birds,” she spat out after ranting a while, before anyone else could respond and leaving them there, blinking. Hiudix, especially, stared at her with wide eyes.

“Vol—” he tried to butt in.

“Found one of his scales in the momma’s house. Gotta be his. He bes the type fer a little kidnapping. A little theft, too, I thinks.”

Seawall sighs beside her. She can almost feel it through the floorboards.

“You can’t say that. All we know is that either Unico or Soleiro visited the mother’s home. At some point.”

Well, sure. Leave it to him to dampen her spirits. She huffed, scratching a cheek. Hiudix didn’t stop staring.

“Fine. We talk to one lizard over the other, though.”

And at least that got an approving snort from the nidoking.

Then, “How about you?” he asked. Turning to Hiudix.

The sandslash didn’t take up the offer too eagerly. He sorta sat there a bit, quills sharp, brow sunken over his twitching snout.

“We finished the job easily,” he said, “A minor break in at the mayor’s office, but nothing worth being concerned about. The money I received easily after. There is nothing else to do.”

Volaphomet nodded, stuffing that info into her head for her electricity to keep hidden. Fit kinda weird in there, though. Got her whiskers twitching, especially to see the way he turned from her after, watching out the little porthole to the darkened bay.

“You’re right crooked today. Whaddya at?”

“I—” He started. But something caught in his throat. Something heavy seeing as how long it took to shake his head and get it out. “Nothing. I hated working with Alexander, that is all.”

Right. She understood that. Sometimes his flabby pink face popped into her mind, a quick nightmare about the day, and it ruined the next couple minutes. She smiled, taking after a shark.

“Good that you’re sharing, bud. We’ve got your back, eh?”

Hiudix looked back. His ears pricked up a bit. Seawall shuffled forward, floorboards bending ominously under his weight. He tried to lean into Hiudix, and the sandslash took to it hesitantly, finding as much comfort as he could against his hard, stonelike plates.

Volaphomet puffed up her chest, grin widening. It did her good to see her boys get along. Still, she couldn’t ignore the difficult frown still staining Hiudix’s face.

“I think—” he started, getting shifty against Seawall. Made him look like a big baby. “Perhaps I’d like to take a break.”

Volaphomet paused. Her energy stuttering, rumbling over a pile of rocks. A break? Bit strange, she couldn’t remember the last time Hiudix wanted anything close to a break. No matter the grumbling or rotten mood, he kept up.

“Ah… a break?”

He nodded, glancing away shyly, snout hiding in his quills. A feral kinda hide, a creature venturing outta the long grass. Volaphomet scratched her cheek, watching on.

And that just raised all sortsa questions. Did Alexander get to him that much? She wouldn’t put it past him for bein’ a creep, but the slowking was a sack of lard with about as much of a spine. He’d get pushed over real easy. Could just be the… weight. General weight of living. Volaphomet felt it, too, sometimes.

Mostly, she shook wondering why he asked. He coulda just nodded and walked off and they’d sit there wondering where he went all morning, but let him go. Let him do his thing. He had his family. He had his clan.

Maybe that’s what this was about. It’s a serious creature and not even she could break the wall down around that monster.

So she shrugged a little. She gave him a crooked smile. He didn’t smile back, but he didn’t smile often anyway.

“Ah… go ahead, eh?”

He nodded. His quills lowered. He leaned back into Seawall, finally.

That… was that, then.

But she couldn’t sort through this feeling. The lamp went out as she thought, flickering, sputtering, choking on the last bits of oil and coughing out a couple bits of smoke. Smelled like grease and lightning.

Hiudix shone barely in the moonlight. She watched him a long while, distantly trying to poke at the rotten things inside him. How she could chase them away, she couldn’t sort out.

She blinked asleep once, cheek smushed against Seawall’s leg, feeling the rumble of his heavy snores and slopping of water against the boathouse foundations below.

Hiudix had gone once she woke up.

Or he coulda turned into a circle of moonlight against the floorboards.

She huffed. Her sparks were too ragged to join her.

He believed in that kinda spiritual stuff.

~(0)~

Hiudix did not have many temples left. Nobody could go into the mountains anymore, so all that he might have had was lost.

He scoffed to himself. In the moonlight and white-hot puddles which reflected it, and the shining cobblestones and glimmering windows. He thought—as if he had ever seen the mountains. But only his parents had, and all those before. He would be the first generation to grow up solely in Seafolk.

The thought sent shivers down his spine.

No. He would not. They would get the mountain back.

They would get the ruins back…

Somehow.

And perhaps Soleiro knew. But now the thought that he’d had something to do with a kidnapping cut into Hiudix. And his invariable ties to that, as well.

He should not have taken Soleiro's offer.

Hiudix turned a corner at the docks, right at the precipice of the East end, where it met the cliffs and pitched into the ocean. He watched out for the late-night drunks, the slamming open of harbourfront bar doors and spilling out of raucous music—the sounds of stomping and fiddling followed him all along the wooden holding pillars and creaking, ancient ships. The chill bite outside did, too. Still cold, not quite humid. His environment. His god speaking to him, drawing him, wrapping their fingers around his quills and yanking him in certain directions.

So he was piloted off the beaten path. At the far end, where the pier terminated and the hewn stone crumbled to old volcanic rocks and slate. Brown and gray, holding against the beating fists of the sea. He stumbled down some untimely crags in the rough shape of steps, nearly collapsing in a shallow tide pool that still held some warmth from the day. It splashed around his ankles, some seaweed catching between his toes. A dry crunching underneath his feet told him he’d crushed something. He didn’t have time to inspect.

Further, when the path turned narrow against the rocks and an overhang reached above him, he held his breath.

It was good form to hold your breath when crossing over. In a mythological sense, to prevent your breath being stolen. To protect the soul and the vulnerable mouth and throat. Hiudix didn’t know if his belief extended that far—he’d found children playing around the area before and would prefer to believe they were still whole; he still held, though.

No light reached around the corner. It all vanished in the pockmarked stone. He almost glowed, himself, his clear quills holding onto some light or, if not, reflecting the moonlight which reflected off the waves.

With that, he could barely find the outline of the shrine.

Frankly, it was better lit now. In the day, with the sunlight directly over the mountains, the shadows fell too heavy. Now the moon watched them directly.

His breath held longer attempting to trace the silhouette of the shrine. Details popped out as his eyes adjusted. Some whittled, dull circles that might’ve once been eyes. Outsplayed arms ragged and coated with deposit such that the shape was lost. Were they arms? Wings? Antenna? It had been a debate forever, but without the fuller picture (which may be lurking in the ruins even now. The thought spiked his adrenaline.) nobody could now.

Their god remained a shapeless creature for now. Nameless and shapeless, through lack of knowledge alone. Simply: The Mountain. But it held power and favour. Under the warped spire that might be a muzzle, small jars of flowers and scattered stone carvings stood upright and with dignity. Hiudix chanced a smile at a lopsided carving of a… glaceon, perhaps. Clearly a child’s work.

And all the messages written, paper scraps pouring out from under the offerings, plastered to the stone with seawater and spreading out, a thick white surface smeared with old words.

Hiudix crouched there. Finally released his breath. Tried to calm his heart, claws clenching over his knees.

He met the eyes of the statue.

For the moment, he hesitated. He did not know what to say. Did not know how to explain his issues and all the events of the past few days. Perhaps he could only ask for guidance and hope they knew.

“I… I am stuck. I am caught between beliefs. Please, I ask for guidance.”

Hiudix shut his eyes, folding him into the dark. For a while, not much happened. Then, the world quieted. The waves stilled. Distant mountains began to rumble, deep from within their bellies. HIudix could imagine a great emptiness there, waiting and hungry.

He had felt this before. Seen it since he was young, his parents watching over with concern. But nobody else would ever know.

I see you, sandslash.

The whisper was quieter than words. Hiudix certainly could not speak it, and it would be inappropriate to respond anyway. He could only listen, ears perked. Nod and listen.

You are right. In all ways. Believe this.

Hiudix perked further.

But you may not avert the fate of the mountains.

He sank once more. With such weight, too. He knelt until his forehead touched the ground, numb against the floor.

“Why?” he let slip out.

This is the nature of things. You will never see the white peaks. You will never carve from the glaciers a home.

The words beat down on him. The shifting of rocks sounded louder, filling the space with a terrible grinding. He sensed no strain in the voice, nothing but a faint indifference that still soared over the noise and a growing heat in the cave.

But.

All at once, everything vanished. The waves returned. Hiudix did not trust it. He stayed.

But?

The mountains may fall. Nevermind may, they shall. So slowly no single generation will notice. The pokemon remain. The ruins remain. I remain.

It was true. Hiudix believed that fully.

No. You do not. No creature can.

Hiudix hesitated. Instinctively, he tried to clear his mind. But wouldn’t that be antagonistic? He released it again.

Why do you not speak?

“It would… do you want me to?”

Treat me like a friend, it whispered. Though its voice was cold and scattered. It pinged through his mind, unable to be placed in any direction.

That would be impossible. Hiudix shrunk in its presence. Even looking at the pale, craggy statue representing it he felt a brick form in his throat.

“I see,” he said.

You have something you want to ask. I will only force you in order to assist.

That... sounded like permission. He should tart with the important things.

“T-there is a missing child. A sneasel. If you could help me—”

No.

“I… did you not want me to—”

This is not the question you need answering. I know, but I will not tell you.

Hiudix paused, fighting past the pang of ache in his heart. He shook his head. He should have expected as such. The mountain worked the way it wanted to and sometimes that was cruel— and in some sense he could blame himself for thinking of the wrong things. Hiudix cleareed his throat.

“Do you know… a kecleon? His name is Soleiro.”

I know everything that lives between the mountains and the sea.

“I understand. I want to ask about him. He—he knows more than he should.”

Indeed. All living gravitate towards wells of knowledge. Is there a question there?

“Is he of the mountains?”

Despite the warble in his voice, the god seemed to laugh. The world shuddered and buckled around him in a way he could only describe as… amused.

Does the kecleon find home in the snow and ice like we would find home in a volcano? No he is not.

Hiudix wanted to sigh. To bring himself back up and meet the statue’s swollen, marbled eyes and whisper thanks. A strong reaction, certainly, but true of his feelings on Soleiro. The kecleon’s existence would not stain him or his people.

But this still did not explain how he knew.

“Does he—” Hiudix started, but bit his tongue at the end. Should he ask?

Once again, he turned to the statue. He felt nothing from it. Here, with a god with no name or shape, he could only have faith—this intense faith strong enough to carry him when the world threatened to collapse around him.

No he would not. He swallowed the brick in his throat. Sank back down.

“--No. It is a mistake to ask.”

If you believe so.

It knew. Of course it knew. But offered no information. Out of respect, hopefully. Hiudix could only dream. Chew on his lip and believe.

But this belief is cowardice. You must take something and hold it so strongly that removing it would kill you and kill everything around you and destroy the world utterly. This is why the mountains fell. This is why they will crumble.

Hiudix nodded once again. Enthusiastic, scraping against the rough edges of stone still felt under a layer of paper. But as he opened his mouth again, the presence had gone. The gulls cawed out over the sea, sprays of mist and tide rushed into the cave and lingered, the sounds of brawls and song spilled out onto the distant streets.

He didn’t get many answers. In fact, he felt like he may have lost favour—though it was so hard to tell. He stared at the statue longingly, but did not have the heart to beg for a second time.

So he would have to go back to Soleiro. To find out both his own information and to learn of this new… kidnapping allegation. He should’ve forced Soleiro to ask for a favour—now, the kecleon believed they were even—but that was in the past. As instructed, he should reject cowardice.

But for now, he would stay a while curled against the rock. He felt simpler here.

And here, he could breath again, at least.
 
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canisaries

you should've known the price of evil
Location
Stovokor
Pronouns
she/her
Partners
  1. inkay-shirlee
  2. houndoom-elliot
  3. yamask-joanna
  4. shuppet
  5. deerling-andre
Hey there! Here for Catnip. Read the first chapter, and here are my thoughts.

thriving utopias inland that housed the bravest er… pokemon (according to klefki) in the world.
Should Klefki be capitalized? Is it according to Klefki the person or klefki the species?

“Alright. Cool..”
Two periods instead of one or three.

“Alright! I’m Larcen, by the by,” the buizel said,
the thief is named larcen. its the perfect crime

He just gave vague half- truths and shrugs.
Stray space after "half-"?

“I got a lot of pokemon tiptoeing around me in town.” He asked, strolling beside Larcen.
"He asked" seems to be punctuated as its own sentence rather than a dialogue tag. I'm also not sure if what he said is really asking, technically speaking?

“That… sucks. I kinda feel bad now,” Larcen said.

“Don’t. It’s not your fault.”

“Nah, not for that.” Larcen toyed with his whiskers, his pace slowing to a crawl. He refused to elaborate beyond that, even as the duo walked in silence.
ominous

Solder, who’d been right behind him, narrowly avoided trodding on the buizel’s tails as stepped forward,
I think there's a "he" missing between "as" and "stepped".

“Oh! Veille.” Auloin jumped up, her eyes flashing a bright pink. “Someone’s coming down the path.”

Sense?
Did Auloin's dialogue use to contain the word "sense" in a previous version? I'm not sure where the "Sense?" comes from here.

---

So, we're introduced to Solder recovering after seasickness, then shown around the town until we witness a theft. Solder confronts the thief and wants to bring him to the guild for some esteem and manages to coerce the thief into leading him to the guild. The thief gives his name as Larcen, and on the way to the guild, Solder explains his short past, which confirms he is an amnesiac. They make it to the guild and talk to the Pokemon there, then continue forward to find Solder a place to lie down.

Your suggestion of the story being on the slower side seems to be accurate for this first chapter, but it's not a bad thing. We do have the mystery of Solder's amnesia (though that one we PMD fans can probably figure out already) and why the townsfolk think so lowly of the local guild. There's also very nice descriptions of the environments, and the characters already have plenty of personality, made clear by their ways of speaking and behavior. I think you've got a solid start to a story here!

Nothing else really comes to mind right now, so I'll bring this review to a close. Good luck with writing onward!
 

Gyeig

Bug Catcher
Pronouns
he/him
Partners
  1. samurott

Review of chapters 1 and 2​


Hello Tomatillorade, here for those vwheel shenanigans. Starting off with my usual disclaimer - I’m going in 100% blind, there might be problems or errors in the conclusions I come to character or plot wise, or just general issues in my judgement as a result. If I make any, don’t be shy to point ‘em out.

So, two things in particular stand out here in the beginning. For one, the main character has amnesia, and that results in an interesting start. You’re just thrown straight into chapter 1 with Solder waking up on a ship, and you’re piecing together what’s going on, or even just who the hell he is alongside him. It’s not the first time someone’s done amnesia in a fic / story like this, but what really sets it apart is that the prose, the dialogue, even the basic structure of the story itself sells it. The fic isn’t forcing you to care about Solder, rather, you want to figure out what’s happening with him.

Which brings me to my second point - the prose. Just the basic writing here alone is well put together; decently imaginative, not afraid to let the reader fill the gaps in for themselves, not shy about throwing a difficult sentence here or there as well… all without being obtuse and overindulgent. Experienced writing like this is unfortunately absent in a looot of fanfiction, and fortunately present here. This is a strong hook for me personally.

If there’s any issues I have with this fic, it’s that some characters do have a slight issue with sounding too sarcastic, and that the piecemeal approach to storytelling can lead to some odd moments or decisions. Solder wants to go to the guild, yes, but I’m not sure his introduction to Larcen would necessarily lead to Solder following Larcen to the guild, even if Larcen is a member of the guild himself. I think the main ingredient missing is just details - I want to see more basic aspects of who Solder is established ASAP. Same goes for the other characters.

All things considered though, I really enjoy these opening chapters. They’re very promising as is - clearly PMD, but written by an experienced hand. Definitely worth keeping an eye on this one. Thanks again for the chapters-
 
Part Two: Chapter Fourteen, Green Shadows

tomatorade

The great speckled bird
Location
A town at the bottom of the ocean
Pronouns
He/Him
Partners
  1. quilava
  2. buizel
Chapter Fourteen
Green Shadows


Hiudix’s first mission was to find Soleiro. Despite all good sense and the screaming voice in the back of his mind telling him to take his own word, leave well enough alone, withdraw fully, go on vacation and so on, he needed to know. A missing child was involved, for one. Which trumped his own insecurities.

But Soleiro had dug too deep into something. And Hiudix could admit his own failings to not earlier rally against the kecleon’s strange ability to know seemingly everything at the exact wrong moments. This affected him now, and he could only look back and feel sorrow for all those he hadn’t helped by not getting to the bottom of this earlier.

Assuming, of course, that Solerio had actually done anything wrong.

Well, certainly he had. But not necessarily with the sneasel child.

It didn’t hurt to pursue, though.

But given the kecleon’s other strange ability to vanish when needed, that made things difficult. Which left him wracking his brain for any hint of Soleiro’s home.

He could ask The Mountain. It had lead him well before. But he would not return to any shrine for a moment. It did not like to be disturbed frequently, and had made quite clear that their conversation was over.

And then who else to talk to but his team.

He sighed.

He did have spaces to think, though. A long line of grass and rocks up the cliffs, as close as he would dare go before crossing over into a dungeon. The cliffs were marked off by painted ropes, but placed quite a ways down. Really, there were a few hundred metres of space between the town’s boundary and the real dungeon.

And Hiudix liked to think he had an eye for them, besides.

The edge sort of shimmered in the alpine grass, long stalks heavy with seed pods bending away. He could be wrong, but managed to find a small outcropping to sit down, his form refracted by the shimmering without being whisked off into the dungeon.

Here he curled in on himself. Perched his snout on his knees and looked down across Seafolk. He could see all of it. Every spire and nest. Every construction—new and old—the heavy line separating the east side from the centre. East was darker, as if stained with ink and dirt.

It would be an obvious place, wouldn’t it? It fit Soleiro well, though he loathed to admit it. Danger often lies in those closest to you and your kin. In another world, he and Volaphomet and Soleiro might have been in the same gang. Perhaps in Treebow, where his home land meant much less and he would struggle instead for money, like any other pokemon.

Hiudix sighed. Lights began to blink on as he thought. But he had not really achieved anything yet. None of the buildings in the east end stood out. Not that they would, with someone as low profile as the kecleon. His mind supplied little, too. He thought he knew the land. But really he observed from outside more. He wandered the streets. He could name any building and give shape to their faces in his mind, but the nooks and alleys and rooftops were a blur.

And really, wasn’t he doing this to be alone? He would not say as much to his team , but they were forceful and he himself liked to push forward and only now, sitting on his own, he thought that perhaps a break had been a good idea.

Well, for anyone else, because this was not comfortable.

He stressed and squirmed on his own. Found an unavoidable need to move the more he tried to keep still. Could not keep his mind steady or wrangle it from the hands of many fears tearing at him.

Hiudix found himself jittery after a while, watching pokemon come alive and meet outside, chatting on sloping streets that carried their business through roads and parks until they landed wherever they were meant to be.

Nothing was happening up here. He should be working.

He should be there.

He snorted.

Of course.

And he was just avoiding the obvious, wasn’t he?

After all, he and Soleiro both worked at the same guild.

When the thought hit him, Hiudix wanted to roll into a ball, careen down the cliff and crash into the sea. Instead he sighed once more, felt it deep in his gut, and let his ears flop against his head. Just another bad decision to add to the pile

It would be the first place Volaphomet went. And him, now.

He should not have asked for time off.

~(0)~

Well, the guild was coming along, at least.

For whatever reason, Seafolk tended to draw many pokemon adept at construction and digging and… whatever else one needed in an effort to either level a mountain or build one up again. If he ever had any doubt, Hiudix’s bird’s-eye view dispelled it.

The old insides of the guild had been constructed into their own castles of roughly-hewn stone, all evenly stacked and ready to be taken elsewhere. The construction pokemon had their paths to and from the entrance roped off for perfect efficiency. Shame about the grass—now dirt, he supposed—but that would grow back.

It came as a minor shock considering they’d had nothing close to this progress the day before.

He was not here for construction, of course. And not, once again, lurking around the hills for fun. He’d been watching for Volaphomet and the others for a while and seen no sign. Not in or out or really near the guild. Which worried him in a new way. Ideally, he would wait for them to do their business and leave so he could investigate without worry.

Of course, he’d also seen no sign of Soleiro either, which would have made this excursion remarkably simple.

Oh well. But it was also nearly noon already.

He stood from his crouch. Shook some feeling back into his tail. Looked back down the road. Both ways—just in case they somehow snuck past him. Then took some tentative steps out from the little grotto he’d been crouched in and back into the sunlight. The warmth was not all too pleasing. He tried to scuttle to the road, crouched low and willing wandering eyes to glance off him. As he stumbled to the middle of the path, spat out in a clever little bottleneck between two enormous ivy growths that blocked most sight, he allowed himself to perk up. Tried working up a smile. Or at least something less awkward to talk himself into the guild.

“Oh, honey, you are not subtle.”

Hiudix yelped. Jumped nearly a foot, quills primed like hornets. He jerked his head around. To a ball of cotton wreathing a smug smile, all nestled closely into a blind spot. Right in the crook of the road and ivy, on the other side of the bottleneck where Hiudix wouldn’t have spotted him coming up. With a tent and table laid out as if waiting for visitors. He leaned back in a folding wood chair, paws fiddling with some stray components spilling out the mouth of a broken radio.

“Bastaya,” hiudix said, meeting the imp’s smug smile with a grimace. He hoped he didn’t notice the attempted smile.

“If you’re looking for a place to stay, I’ve got extra room,” Bastaya continued, throwing a paw back at his tent with a wink. He chuckled as Hiudix’s frown curdled further. “Not everyone is built for me, I guess. Though I may have recommended it as a cozier place to stalk the guild.”

Hiudix did not respond at first. He decided to really think about his response, here. Perhaps he shouldn’t let Bastaya know about his search for Soleiro. The imp certainly did not know how to keep to himself, even besides Alexander’s warning not to be exposed on radio.

Unfortunate, then, that Bastaya was most likely to know where Soleiro was.

He would have to be clever about this. Lead into it.

“How is the construction going?”

“Oh, fabulous. Just look at what they’re building.” He moved a tiny screwdriver he’d been using from his paw to mouth, only to wave distractedly at the piles of stone Hiudix had been admiring. “I heard the company’s taking it as partial payment. Brute could’ve argued better, but he was in adequate form, at least. Didn’t break the bank on this one. Good for him.” While his words were dangerously close to a compliment, it did not have that tone.

And left Hiudix trying to work his claws through Bastaya’s words. He mostly avoided his obvious, inviting glances and watched his hands work through frail copper wire and odd tubes.

“Uhm… excellent. Are they opening up new rooms?”

Supposedly. You’d think we’d just move the whole guild closer to town, but I guess convenience wasn’t the point.”

“Are you running your show?”

“Less frequently. I can still squirm my way in with a bit of confidence—the workers are too busy to care—I sleep in there, normally, soooo…”

Bastaya paused his work. Tilted his chin over his shoulder to raise his brows at Hiudix. Hard to tell his expression in his pure amber eyes.

Hiudix blinked.

“You sleep in the radio room?”

“Are you sure you’re not hitting on me?”

Whatever Hiudix was about to say dropped from his mind. His blinking turned rapid and nervous.

“I— no.”

“You wouldn’t be the first guy to come out of the closet because of me.”

As if he could be any more confused. Bastaya stared him in the eyes now, and Hiudix couldn’t break away. If he didn’t know how to talk to most pokemon, then Bastaya wasn’t even a pokemon. He wished Vol— no. Seawall. He wished Seawall were here. Someone to ground the conversation. Evade awkwardness. It was remarkable what a towering pokemon like him could draw from others.

But for now, he tried to kick his brain back into gear. Ignore whatever ‘coming out of the closet’ was meant to refer to, and find some way to get this back on track.

“You came here for something~” Bastaya hummed.

“Perhaps I only want to talk.”

Bastaya’s face split into a wicked grin. He chuckled openly.

“That’s cute. I wish anyone ever 'just wanted to talk’. Relax, you already failed trying to be secretive, so there’s no need to hide the sugar from me now.”

“If I say anything you’ll talk about it on your show.”

“That depends.”

“You will.”

“Sometimes I keep it to myself~” Bastaya winked.

Hiudix frowned. Frustration flushing within him, staining his face pink.

“I shouldn’t say anything.”

“Don’t make me play detective. That would make this much less cute than a night under the stars.”

Perhaps it would be a good idea to leave. Then again, that would not stop speculation. The whimsicott had set his broken radio aside entirely, ignoring the dismayed gape of its open grate mouth, the sad tilt of those dial eyes.

“Let’s see…” Bastaya started, leaning back in his chair. “You came alone—”

“I’m on break.”

“--oh? ‘I’m on break’, he says. ‘I’m vacationing at my work, away from all my friends’, he says. Please. You’re avoiding the team for some reason. And stalking around the guild, which means… you’re looking for someone else.” Bastaya put a paw to his chin, an exaggerated pout to his lips. “But I’ll spare you the cruelty and stop leading you on. Your team already had a little chat with me.”
Hiudix’s ears sunk.

“Seemed very interested in finding Soleiro. For some odd, itty-bitty little reason.” Quickly, Bastaya dispelled his theatre with a wave. “ Kidnapping? Pssh… in our corner of heaven?”

If that expression on his face was meant to be a smile, it had turned grim. His cotton swelled with air, until it fairly engulfed the back of his chair. It might’ve been comical, if not for the way Bastaya leaned off his chair, prepared for action, power on display.

Would Hiudix be concerned in a fight with Bastaya? No. But regardless of whether he could win, it could only end poorly for him.

The sound of drilling filled the distance. Destroying the normal cacophony of sawing and buzzing and chirping that swarmed the valley.

“I’ll only say anything if something comes of it. If I find out you and Soleiro have been nabbing kids off the street—”

Something pounded at Hiudix’s chest then.

“You think so little of me? You think I’d do something so horrible?” Hiudix said.

“I think there’s ways to be responsible without actively involving yourself.”

Hiudix had to pause at that. Fight back his own desire to display his anger. His quills pricked at him and fought back, but he kept them down. He could not deny how suspicious he looked, though he simply wasn’t involved.

Bastaya surveyed him a moment longer. Then the grin came back. He returned to his work, aggression fading, though his cotton still wrapped around itself in a furious ball. Hiudix did not back down yet.

“Still, I’ll give you something. Just tell me what you want,” Bastaya mumbled.
And forgive Hiudix for not trusting that. He did not see the point of repeating himself. He did not see the point of continuing. But he supposed Bastaya would only assume the worst if he left now. He cleared his throat, trying to transmit the weight of his words through the old tone his parents used to use with him. Low and ancient. Or what he imagined as such.

“I want to know where Soleiro lives.”

And Bastaya hummed a fae little tune. Feigned surprise with an open mouth. Which melted back into his usual sly grin not a moment later.

“See, I don’t know where Soleiro is,” he continued, ignoring the way Hiudix’s face sank. “But I know Landy does”

“You told them.”

“Your team? No. That lightning bug of yours barely spent ten seconds on me, and I don’t have time to chase them down with new information. Besides, they aren’t as desperate as you. Landy’s who you want.”

The name kept all shame at Bastaya’s needling at bay. Landy? While both were morally dubious, any image of him and Soleiro together tore itself apart the moment it formed.

“I don’t know where he is, either,” Hiudix said.

Bastaya chuckled.

“Still in the guild. Holed up in holding cells with his feral. Sounds like torture to me, but I don’t want anything to do with that regardless.”

Hiudix looked back to the guild. The entrance had been blocked from view with great rhythmic patterns of carved stone, but he could imagine a blue smear holed up in a makeshift lab—concocting strange potions and feeding them to his feral. It had been days since he saw the meowstic, and only now did he realise he’d trapped himself down there.

“I— thank you. Please say nothing.”

Bastaya hummed a faint affirmative, but had already buried himself back in his work, hunched over a wire coil, cutters in one hand, pliers in the other.

“That all depends on you~”

And that was the final word.

Hiudix scurried up the hill, hopeful with the advantage that he could find Soleiro first. He spared a final glance as he reached the gatehouse, but it did not reveal much more. Bastaya looked like a grounded cloud, toy instruments scattered around him and mingling with the ivy.

That problem could wait until later. For now, he put at least a little of Bastaya’s advice to the test, shaking off his nerves and standing his quills up, ears tall and proud, spine as straight as he could get. The faint eye of chatting excadrill and graveler and some individual machop drinking at some upturned crates lingered, but nobody stopped him as he made his way through the entrance.

He caught himself a second to marvel at the new inside. Completely empty and in the process of being smoothed. Old grit and rubble being flattened into polished tile, carved accents chipped into the wall by capable paws. So many more rooms had been opened up across the hall, the pit had been dug out—an entrance had even been cut through the other side of the cliff-right below where the guildmaster’s office would be.

The awe fled him as more pokemon took notice, but he’d only become more impressed at the work. He gave some nods to those he passed on the way to the cells.

And the cell hallway seemed remarkably untouched. The heavy steel door still remained dented, latch broken, angled in its frame. It creaked open and let Hiudix in just the same, slamming shut behind him as if to shout him down the stairs.

If there were any doubts as to Landy’s whereabouts the last couple days, they vanished at the bottom of the stairs.

What at first seemed like a misplaced shadow in the corner of the room sharpened as Hiudix’s eyes adjusted to the dim. Landy, slumped deep into the corner, blue fur greasy and curling from beneath a limp blanket. Only a lantern offered enough light to see him—splotchy, sick yellow pools colouring the walls and floor. The cells were as Hiudix remembered them. Half broken, barred doors askew. Only the last was shut tight, with another figure curled into the corner and mirroring Landy on the other side.

Edging closer, Landy looked just born. Wet in the faint light. Strangely weak. Hiudix had not seen him for days, but he’d kept himself up before, at least. How the arrogant meowstic in his memory could become… this, seemed impossible.

Then a hiss from the corner. In the cell. Iudix glanced, catching a sliver of white eyes through the folds of thousands of brown feathers. Swathes of burns cut through in places, exposing raw, pink flesh in the process of curling into ugly scars.

That must be the feral. Hiudix had not had a chance to see them before they and Landy vanished underground, but there they were, he supposed. A farfetched, a ball of fury quaking in the cell. Missing their leek, though—which a quick search told him was lying on the floor, tucked half-under Landy’s cot.

Hiudix opted to avoid them for now. A flash of pity was all he could spare, trying to reach out with a gentle look. Their eyes were feral though, and vanished fully into feathers moments after, leaving him with Landy.

How to approach this? For a while, Hiudix loomed. Awkward but powerful at the foot of Landy’s cot. He felt strangely hesitant.

He'd always had a… respect for Landy.

He might’ve said liking, but that wasn’t true. They hardly spoke, and it was impossible to ignore the meowstic’s attitude even at the best of times. He could not imagine working or being in the same room with Landy for more than a day.

And yet.

And yet, with some shame, Hiudix had to admit that his standards were very low. Landy did not inspire much hate in him. The cat seemed to despise everyone and while Hiudix would be an obvious target, Landy did not take the opportunity. Maybe he didn’t seem kinder. Calm, more like.

And when Landy was one of the few Hiudix felt he could have an honest conversation with, that made him difficult to hate.

It came through in his tone. Soft, as if he’d wake up a baby in the cell.

“Landy…” Hiudix whispered. Edged closer until he bumped up against the cot. Then wrinkled his nose and backed up as the smell of unwashed fur hit him. “Are you alright?”

For a second he seemed to talk only to the walls. Then a shift of movement, Two green eyes blinked open through a sea of blankets. Innocent and confused for the briefest glimpse until they focused. Narrowed in on Hiudix.

“That’s a horrible question,” he croaked. And sank back into his corner.

Fair enough. Hard to deny him his misery. Hiudix sniffed a bit, trying to ignore the stench on one side and the violent feral presence on the other.

He could simply ask. It was a gamble whether Landy would tell him or not. But that turned his stomach. Seeing someone so low and only deciding to use them for information…

He could do more. He would like to believe he was a kinder pokemon than that.

“Landy?” He tried again. It got a subtle response. A twitch in those big, blue ears. Straightening just slightly. “Are you having trouble with the feral?”

Hiudix sensed that the same response would come, but Landy actually managed to untangle himself from his blankets, his nose poking out, a defeated frown following soon after.

“Was it not obvious? Is there something you require of me or are you simply here to make up for me missing the guild’s abundance of idiocy?”

Once again, Hiudix could skip all this. Instead, he levelled another sympathetic frown at the feral. Urging it to come out. It hardly budged—happy to mimic a stain on the wall.

“What is the issue, then? Maybe I can help.”

“If only.”

That… was not the expected response. Hiudix sat there, blinking. Even more strangely, Landy continued.

“I’ve tried everything to get through to it. Replicated old experiments with ferals. Read to it, tended to it—no matter how clearly it disliked me.” He almost spat that last part, a strange vitriol directed only at the ceiling. “It’s untrainable. Unteachable. Unsaveable. I’m simply unable to reach what I used to have.”

Hiudix took the opportunity to stare at the feral. They’d come out of their feathers slightly, orange sliver of beak creeping from a brown jungle, frowning. Then the faint tremor of a hiss as Landy spoke.

Something about this struck Hiudix wrongly. Forced him to mull over Landy’s words as he examined the feral’s fear. He tilted his head slightly and that feral edge vanished a moment.

Then, it was simply a scared, hurt pokemon hiding from the true aggressor.

“It?” he asked.

A strange word for any living creature.

“Yes, it.” Landy snapped, a flicker of psychic pink colouring his eyes as he directed his attention to the feral. He did not seem to catch Hiudix’s meaning.

“Do they have a name?”

“They’re feral!”

“Do you even know what to call them?”

“I— what is the point of this? I knew you wouldn’t help—this is all useless!”

Hiudix shrugged, ears bobbing atop his head. He was fairly used to the tone.

“I don’t see how you expect them to integrate into society without introducing a basic understanding of who they are.”

And Landy seemed to pause at that. Worm his way a little more from his corner, until his greasy fur pressed into the stone walls and frizzed, sticking in every which direction. He shivered.

“I— doubt a feral would have a name. Their society is hardly structured or parental enough to warrant them.”

“Then give them one.”

“They’re female, for your understanding.” Landy frowned. Awkwardly scratched at his cheek. Perhaps the closest thing he would come to shame. “I suppose that isn’t a horrible idea.”

Wel, that was progress, wasn’t it? Hiudix would not chance even the hint of a smile, but managed a nod at least. Not returned, but Landy’s expression remained neutral, which was more than enough for them both, he suspected.

Unfortunately, that also left Hiudix to try and transition into his question.

“I heard you may have some information I’m after,” Hiudix said, itching as Landy’s piercing stare cut to him. “About where Soleiro… lives? Stays? Perhaps he has a hideout. Do you know?”

And Landy seemed to actually consider that. Drop the blanket from under his chin, guard lowered. He could not keep the unpleasant turn of his whiskers at Soleiro’s name, but turned it away from Hiudix, at least.

“I suppose you’d have to be looking for something,” Landy said. Not unkindly. With a pinch of the lips and a tilt of the head.

“So you know?”
“Yes. To everybody’s shock. He took me there once. In confidence, you understand, though I have much more important things to worry about than him breathing down my neck the next few months. I suspect he does too, if you’re looking to bother him.”

And for a moment, Landy almost smiled and Hiudix’s spirits lifted. His ears perked up. This ended up being much easier than expected,

“Do one thing for me,” Landy said.

Of course. Hiudix bit back a sigh.

“Fine.”

“Get that… quilava down here someday. Soon, preferably.”

The quilava? Hiudix blanked for a moment before he remembered. S… Solder. That’s right. Confusing though. Hiudix couldn’t say what happened between Solder and Landy, but he had seen them in the common room one day and Solder looked absolutely feral to exist in the same few meters of space.

But really, this was easy. He did not have many qualms about trying, at least. So long as he got Soleiro’s location, he did not even have to follow through.

Though he hated the faint burn of shame that brought to him.

“Yes. I can… try, at least.”

“I know you will,” Landy grumbled. He shifted in his nest of blankets and a wave of stagnant, warm air escaped as he kicked out one side. “Now, I doubt you would have believed this…”

~(0)~

“A friggin’ dungeon?”

“You been sayin’ that, boss…” Azazel groaned. A harsh whine left his throat. “Let it go, would ya? We got there already. Hurtin’ my ears!”

Well, sure, but Volaphomet still had a time wringing the knowledge from her soggy brain.

After a day of stumbling through Seafolk asking near every pokemon and bug and rock where in this rotten place a more rotten lizard could be hiding, they'd finally hit on a jackpot—an old haunt of his, apparently, with a crumpled kadabra who used to buy dungeon items offa him.

Which led them here. Slack-jawed, gazing into the abyss. This black hole cut from a hidden alcove just at the foot of the moments. A bit outta town, but close enough to see lights blinking at them in the coming dark. Looked like something from an old story—her brother used to leap about trying to get her spark up and she told stories about pokemon stupid enough to wander in places like that. Not like it was hidden. No mystery here, it faced out in broad daylight and Volaphomet had some memories of finding a hole like this and walking right away.

But now she had to go in there. Somehow, someway, Soleiro lived at the end.

Friggin’ psycho.

Seawall huffed beside her. He and Azazel took a moment on a couple rocks still warm from the sun. Azazel panted, fur all stuck and matted and grass stains just creeping around the edges of his paws. Seawall rubbed at the plates on his legs, letting out a low groan as he found a good spot.

Unlucky for them, being an emolga meant she never got tired. She could keep up. She ached a bit, both from scrambling around herself and the jostling from on Seawall’s head.

But she already let them have their moment.

“By’s gots some grub in ‘em?”

Neither looked excited by the question. But they nodded. They noticed the smile and the sliding into some sort of tone. Real solid, rocky sort of voice. Ready for the dungeon.

She clapped her hands together. A spark crackled from her cheeks and lit up the foot of the cave for the briefest moment.

She didn’t look back. She didn’t need to—she heard the heave of Seawall getting up.

Only a brief wrongness got her when a certain silence asserted itself. No Hiudix. He was their fighter, too. No time to dwell, though.

They had a job to do.

Before she could think on it further, Volaphomet took a deep breath, let her electricity build until light touched the walls, and leapt forward into the darkness.
 

Kiba Makuro

Junior Trainer
Pronouns
He/Him, They/Them
Between the Mountains and The Sea V-Wheel Hello Tomatorade, I'm here for V-Wheel. Covering Chapter One The Sea and Chapter Two Our House. Seafolk is a well crafted town for sure. You clearly crafted a vibrant oceanside fit for a grand tale here. Plus it seems like the other towns and cities are even grander. As promised Subscribe to my Patreon or Donate to my Ko-Fi for the rest of the review. Just kidding.
Seafolk is a well crafted town for sure. You clearly crafted a vibrant oceanside fit for a grand tale here. Plus it seems like the other towns and cities are even grander.

The picture is painted even clearer in Chapter 2, with Solder and Larcen going through the docks a bit more and toward the dining and restaurant areas. I'm not entirely sure this fic was planned as a slice of life, but if so that does explain the calm, slower pace. I suppose “learning when to let things go” comes with a bit of baggage so my impatience was rightfully tested.

To bring up another high note, I enjoy the characters' dynamics. I can feel the love and passion put into how they'll act, what they'll say. Even the side characters that may not appear again are decently fleshed out. The interactions between them all. Like others highlighted, Solder and Larcen mesh really well together. I also like Veille and Auloin, the straight man and ‘fool’ dynamic they bring even while on the job as gatekeepers.

On that note about characters there is an important fault in Solder however, to me it seems like you are holding too much close to your chest. The only thing we know about him goal wise is that he wanted to go to the Seafolk Guild. But unfortunately he accomplished this at the end of the first chapter. In Chapter 1 we know he was probably summoned on a boat as a former human, probably from earth because he doesn't know anything about Pokémon. But we don't know anything else about him, and it doesn't help that he's not particularly likable or has anything interesting or mysterious going for him. This is amplified in Chapter 2 when we learn information that definitely shakes things up with so many questions “why would a Pokemon who has a family xyz” I really like this element to the story, but I feel like it comes too late. The twist that he might not be a former human has to wait a moment after it's late introduction however so I'm looking forward to what happens next in those next- ten plus- chapters.

There is one major theme I like that others also do, the political intrigue with the Guilds and the naturally implemented lore. “Thank the *O*cean-” which mind you is a title so it should be properly capitalized like all others, is a phrase instead of a “thank God/insert legendary or mythical here”. We know Solder woke up near/in the ocean so perhaps there's something hidden underneath the waves.

Unfortunately the prose is extremely detailed, to the point of drowning the reader in purple filled paragraphs till we can get to each point.There's nothing left to the imagination, but that also cuts into the pacing. Every scene is long and drawn out, flip flopping in focus to whatever you'd like to share, which to be fair is what writings is about but at times it feels “unstructured” imo.

A few times pronouns change for a character. Like after the Pikachu is called ‘she’ we see the pronoun switch to ‘they’. I'm not entirely sure it's a semi point of view thing with Solder or the 3rd person, but if you don't purposely introduce a character to have multiple pronouns, then I'd suggest you avoid that.

This reminds me of the real world animal name epithet problem of when you give every Pokemon an epithet you can end up using the wrong one, being too verbose, or being too vague. In my opinion this is a big no when it comes to readability. Of course others don’t mind it so it is the case of preferences but, you shouldn’t take more than two paragraphs to outright state a Pokemon’s species and only use that as the description unless they have a given name. Now to give you credit you stopped doing that after Larcen was introduced, as he quickly explains every Pokémon and their type to Solden when they are together, but still.

Back to the fun world building, but on a microscale, the Seafolk Guild. Starting in Chapter 2 we meet another character that spices things up Landy. He brings up the whole type bias, and sorta distrust in regards to Solder and Larcen pretty well. This little quirk of the world reminds me of a mix between something more akin to the mainline world and a bit of real life. I like that pun of ‘firestarter’, but I think not seeing any haywire fire-types or psychic-types before the insults come up lessens the blow.

Chapter 2 is a big help to fill in the gaps for Solder as we finally get part of his backstory, regarding his Father and his Brother from Guildmaster Haxorus. At the same time because of the pacing it feels a bit tardy, perhaps in Chapter 1 Solder could have woken up with a scrap of a letter telling him he needs to go to the Seafolk Guild, from the name of either his Father or from Cauter. In that way it could connect better to this new letter and his motivation. This letter does add a ton of much needed mystery and a hook at a time I believed the readers needed one.Also now I shall ask: are all names either puns, made up words, or French?

I will admit all of my problems with certain areas are founded on a difference in taste. Nothing is a major dealbreaker. You’ve clearly planned to set up things to your liking, at least the search for Klefki leads well into another interesting scenario for Solder and Larcen to get into. Maybe the restaurant is where they'll also run into a new companion, it’ll at least aim to spice things up for the two and help define them.
Sorry that I’ve been a bit picky lately, but I hope this review is helpful as something to think about, or not, all is valid. Keep up the good work.
 
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Kiba Makuro

Junior Trainer
Pronouns
He/Him, They/Them
Hello Edar… er Tomato I’m back for V-Wheel. Back for Chapter 3 : Morning, of Between the Mountains and The Sea.

If anything is different from the previous chapter I know that I will not be left on a cliffhanger: Solder and Larcen would not leave me hanging.
Looks like we aren't getting that restaurant scene. Plottwist! It's okay because we get a supplement back at the Seafolk Guild, Solder wrestling with his memory of his ability, worry, and the fun of the Guildmaster going on a mission.

I do think with a little bit more of a description of the pamphlet the reading scene would work better as it’s a little hard to follow. I like the idea, sometimes you give other areas like actions a little bit more attention than your set to set locations. But I understand that's sort of your style, and it is different and refreshing when it lands imo. Sometimes, to my thinning resistance so to speak, certain extra bits of directly stated intent and emotion have dragged out a few scenes.

Witnessing Landy and the guildmates in this chapter was my favorite part. Solder and Larcen bounce off them and each other really well. Haxourus has to leave the Guild for a bit, not that everyone is glad that he was here in the first place, but of course his replacement is Brute, the guy who everyone hates even more. I suppose we'll see the competence of Haxorus and the incompetence of the Flygon in his place later.

More importantly, Solder finally gets to meet the voice of the radio. Carrying him where the wind goes, its Bastaya the Whimscott! I suppose since he's a fairy it makes sense that his personality is a bit eccentric, and he has a bone pick with all the dragons in charge. Especially when Haxorus plans to stop a scoop.

That scoop being the ruins of Seafolk, Treebow Guild is about to make some moves and Zazz, whoever that is, is having a fight with Haxorus over it. Save it for tomorrow I suppose. But the Guildmaster is going to keep up appearances and try to work with the others before it gets too messy. Bastaya is another Seafolk Guild oddball and this really helps sell the ‘wow this place really is full of crazy Pokémon, it's definitely not fit to be a real Guild.’

Unfortunately, I had to re-read this section to ‘understand’ it, and I may be off the mark. But it's okay because in the story it's an ongoing development, and also probably a little mystery: you don't have to explain anything, much less “give” correct information the whole time. The Seafolk Ruins feels like a real story about discovering an arena in irl Earth that would have all sorts fighting over it, or atleast unsure what to do.

I really like the parts where Solder and Larcen bonded after the meeting, especially going to the request board. I wonder how many ‘Catch this thief Larcen the Buizel-’ signs will go up tomorrow considering he tore down enough to put a pile of raked leaves to shame. That'll definitely catch-up with him and Solder soon.

The audience gets a reminder that the two are still looking for Klefki, but it's getting murkier. And the bit about Solder's dad and brother that is now apparently a sore subject comes across a tad weak. To be fair these are probably just ‘don't forget’ marks so when it's brought up in the next chapter it doesn't feel too left field.

In better news, Auloin and Veille content! My beloved ragtag bunch of mischievous Gatekeepers/ guards. The sleepy Luxaray hiding from her partner can't get away if she pisses off Solder I guess, and even if the Gardevoir keeps track of every migration that doesn't mean she's found the Klefki Solder and Larcen are looking for.

Like any good meal it's placed on the backburner so we can cook our side dishes, that being Solder still doesn't recall much, much less the will of self-defense as a Pokémon.

Looks like we get our Mystery Dungeon chapter next time, so we get to see combat.

Hopefully we'll learn something about Seafolk afterwards.This was a nice little chapter, keep up the good work!
 
Part Two, Chapter Fifteen: Dungeoneering. New

tomatorade

The great speckled bird
Location
A town at the bottom of the ocean
Pronouns
He/Him
Partners
  1. quilava
  2. buizel
Chapter Fifteen
Dungeoneering


The dungeon was dark.

Volaphomet could chirp more but that’s what got her. Everything else seemed about right. A cave, thereabouts. Rocky walls encircling them, just high enough that Seawall could stretch without scraping his horn, and just wide enough that a newly-energised Azazel could scamper back and forth comfortably, sniffing at every little oddity they came across. And it just kept on, sometimes splitting off in some direction, sometimes curling into a dead end.

Otherwise, the darkness weighed heavy. Heavier than night. Heavier even than a normal cave. Easy to forget this was a dungeon, until Volaphomet had to get her spark going for the light and the strain sank into her back and sent the first rumbling of a headache into her noggin. Felt more like trying to fight something off.

She might’ve thought she was going crazy until Seawall reached into his bag for a torch and light, just to help her, sweet boy, and the flame came out weak and pale. Seawall grit his teeth and glared through it as if it would change, but even with a careful blow, the thing wouldn’t spark more than to light his face round like the moon. Azazel proved a help, at least. He liked to keep up front and his white kept bright enough as a smear on the ink.

“How’s he live like this?” Seawall wondered not too far in. He raised his torch around. Stuck it between an intersection and tried to squint over crumbling gray shield stone.

Volaphomet shook her head, ears perked and ready for the sounds of ferals growling in the darkness. They only caught Azazel’s cackling echoing off the walls. And she had a right idea to shut him up, but now was not a great time. She sighed. They were talking about Soleiro anyway.

“I gots not a clue. He bes rude in the head to live like this. Buddy can’t go through this every day.”

“It explains a lot.”

Volaphomet waited, stuck against the slate wall, ear perked for the next word. Not much came.

“Uh-huh,” she prodded.

Lucky Seawall knew her ticks.

“He used to run a black market shop, didn’t he? I know he sold dungeon items. What better way to find and hide them than through the dungeon itself?”

She hummed some sort of agreement. Azazel cackled a little in the distance, the spiky bush of his tail poking just in vision.

She’d like to say more. But some kinda feeling got her. Her team got so distant in the dark—Seawall lurking above, quiet even blabbing on. Azazel ran his own ship, as always. And Hiudix… who knew.

The darkness should not feel so heavy.

She tried to fight against it, put on a brave face and forced herself to pad through the middle of the hall. The floors were oddly smooth. Slippery, kinda, with the same feeling of salt and brine and cold that ocean stone had. Not like she got claustrophobic in prison, but…

Not many folk in there. Lotsa pokemon, lotsa faces scowling on both sides of the bars, but not much folk.

Still, it felt a bad idea to stick too close to Seawall’s legs and get her tail stomped. She stuck close to the wall. Huffed a bold breath to herself and wondered if the creeping chill was just her.

“Where’s ya at after we’s done?” she asked.

The thumping of Seawall’s heavy steps slowed.

“You alright?” he said.

Darn. Got her. She was happy he couldn’t see the burn on her face.

“Yes, b’y. Gots an itch to know.”

“Alright.”

Darn.

They kept on. On and on and on with just the huffing of breaths growing more stale and padding of feet more monotonous. Chittering and screeching—argued between them, but that’s what she thought at least—echoed from far off. Beyond the walls, even. If she turned her ear to the stone, distant whispers seeped through the cracks. Azazel didn’t last long up front. It was hard to tell if he got rattled by something up ahead or just felt the atmosphere, but he fell back real quick and wedged himself between her and Seawall, nervous grin flickering over his face.

And the whispers only grew louder. The walls let ‘em through. And they hid out in the open. As the gang walked on, Volaphomet kept track and tried to find the words somewhere in the mumbles. Her ears twitched back and forth, those poor sensitive things, and she watched Seawall and Azazel’s do the same. Despite the cracked grin always smeared on Azazel’s muzzle, he sank back further until he fell in line with them.

She caught herself grinding her teeth. Stopped after she heard whispers in there, too. They tried chattering as they did but their faces contorted as the voices curled under there the same.

The darkness bore on.

Around each corner and through each crack and crevice, they kept straight on—but everything seemed so flat that she found herself hurting to parse whether there were other options. She’d lean far one way, her prow tugged in some direction by one sound or another, then lean back and gasp and reach for a wall where she swore she felt one before, and stumble into black with a yelp. Her team always tugged her back. Them now a dull gray stripe bobbing inches beside her and an illuminated circle covering only Seawalls trembling frown.

Soon they had to talk. Besides the constant whispering, they couldn’t keep track of each other otherwise.

“No way he’s in here. No way,” Azazel forced. He sounded serious. That’s an odd one, for him.

“I trust our source. He’s given good information before. Consistent information.” Seawall huffed.

Volaphomet squinted up at him, slowing a fraction. He had not a twitch of uncertainty.

Still…

She wouldn’t turn back. But a couple of confident frowns were close enough to a storm.

She sighed. Kinda echoed like a winded gasp. She felt it deep in her lungs.

“Well, we g-gotta. But if we’s hurting too mu—”

Just then, a great cracking. Volaphomet jumped, jaw snapping shut, a brief cut of pain filling her mouth with warmth and buzzing her brain with panic. She scattered sparks. A brief flash of light bounced off the walls. Seawall’s torch shuttered as he whipped it around. The light didn’t last, but in the moment it did Volaphomet caught the glimpse of silver.

“Down!”

Something burst through with a rattling screech that chased off the voices. A scream blew through the hall like a great gust, painting her vision white.

But she held some calm against her heart. She pressed against the floor—flat as a flagstone. Despite the ache it caused, she strained, the burn of electricity ripping through her muscles. The headache hit before she could register the weight. A growl. Something heavy and dark blowing above her, scattering her whiskers.

Her teammates shouted beside her. The ground shook. A scattering of dust showered her, a brief yowl shattering her headache.

As she scrambled to her feet, panting with the effort and burning to shove herself back against the ragged fur and cold scales of her teammates, all she caught was the harsh silhouette of the feral against the wall—rocky crags caught the edge of Seawall’s light, horn shining even in pitch black. Just the bare slope of shoulders creeping up to Seawall’s height.

The feral shook the harsh blob Volaphomet supposed was its head. It stumbled off the wall and whipped around. Something long swept across the floor. It brushed Volaphomet’s ankles, forcing her back with a yelp. The pinging of scattered pebbles sounded off the wall behind her.

Despite her headache, she had to force it. Through grit teeth and the tense coil of power vibrating inside her, she reached deep and pulled as much energy as possible into her cheeks. In a moment, she sparked to life and squinted through the burning flash she unleashed. The feral came to life same as her, blinking and staggered back from the light.

Rhydon. Frig. A stumpy malnourished one, deep crags etched into the plates on its face. She tried calling out to her team, but the rotten thing put itself together as much as it could, drowning her out with a roar, shoulders rolling forward and horn poised for another charge. It almost cratered headfirst into the ground trying, barely able to catch itself on all fours.

Once more, Volaphomet leapt, scraping across the rugged stone. Her lightning wouldn't do anything, but she let off a crackling wave anyway. Enough to illuminate Seawall’s morphing grimace as he stumbled back, just barely visible over the curve of the rhydon’s jagged spine.

Another roar, deep and guttural. Another shaking of the walls. What tools could Volaphomet scrounge up for this? Damn, she’d love Hiudix here, but for now Seawall had to do.

“EH! S!” She shouted, hoping it reached him. “Get him in the ground!”

She got a grunt in return. Stumbled back. Forced herself to keep at the edge of the rhydon’s reach. She should fight, but in the bleary fog of her mind she knew it was probably more important to keep the lights on. And didn’t Azazel have some elements at his disposal?

“AZ!” She continued. And waited for a brief yelp of confirmation. “Keep aside Seawall, bud! Dark! Shadow! Anything!”

She’d get no conversation outta that. Could only hope, really. Rack her brain and steel her heart and dodge.

The rhydon recovered by the time everyone knew what to do. Volaphomet managed to skirt over the wide swing of a tail and under the wider swing of an arm--catching her barely on the ear and throttling her mind with a harsh ringing. She grimaced and scampered up beside Seawall, hoping to reach his horn and get a safe vantage point.

Then the great force of a shadow, the vanishing of light. Azazel’s slit eyes and lolling tongue glowed in the valley of darkness, but cut off once again with the weight of the rhydon’s silhouette, a violent unease blasting through the hall. Both the shadow and the feral screamed in sync and Volaphomet gasped and threw herself backwards. Just in time to avoid the feral plummeting between her and Seawall. The walls shook.

She Caught her breath, eyes wide, but figured this was the best time. With no hesitation, she leapt forward, scampering up the feral’s arm, claws catching the rolling cracks and fields of dents.

And then a heave below her.

She should’ve known it would recover quickly. But she wouldn’t panic—she was quicker.

Her world tilted. She nearly missed a clawhold, but dug in fast. With a grunt, she curled her legs under her and pushed, leaping as far as she could over the feral’s back and head, nearly hitting the ceiling but spreading her arms in time to catch the air and glide.

Just in time. A great crack and another scream followed.

Her landing wasn't quite so elegant, but she managed to just catch the side of Seawall’s face and wrap herself around his horn again.

“Seein’ fine?” She yelped. Kinda harsh, sparking her cheeks brighter.

“Yes,” he grunted. “Hold on tight.”

She knew a good idea when she heard one.

In the murk and dark still swimming from Azazel’s attack, the rhydon surged up, flinging itself back and forth. Azazel hadn’t shown, but they had to focus anyways.

“Nothing too destructive, eh?”

“Understood,” Seawall said.

Hard to tell his angle from on top, but Volaphomet sure felt it. Shifting plates drawing up his shoulders, forcing her tighter and tighter to his skull—cold on her stomach. She felt the stance. Shoulders high and fists forward, bobbing slightly as he moved in close and waiting for a break in the feral flailing to strike.

Without much help to give, Volaphomet could only steel herself and focus through the ache to keep the light sparking from her cheeks. Below her, Seawall closed in. Dodged a couple of close, blind swipes and without much sign ‘sides a throaty grunt, dipped in, full weight thrown behind a heavy punch.

As a brutal crunch and pained wail echoed through the tunnel, Volaphomet dug her claws into Seawall’s horn and held against the inertia. Despite the sick drop in her stomach and brief flicker of dark as she lost focus, she managed.

Seawall lurched back. Or, tried. Hard to tell what was going on, but he stopped quick. Jerked once beneath her. Then again. Volaphomet chanced a peek over his forehead.

Despite still wailing and moaning, a harsh spider web of cracks opening a faint rotting smell seeping through the Rhydon’s chest, it found an opening. Held Seawall’s arm to its chest and dug in tight.

Frig again. No time to swallow her heart back down, Volaphomet shouted.

“Az! We’re stuck!”
“Gotcha!” he yelped from somewhere below.

Knowing him, he’d be reckless. But the rhydon ducked its head, horn poised, and Seawall’s squirming and new, needling whines turned frantic.

She didn’t see it this time, only felt it. Like the air had been sucked out of the room, vision slowly flickering out except a burning red light she knew instinctively lurked below her. She gasped, her fur all stuck like thousands of tiny jaws were trying to rip out each hair by its root. It washed over. Seawall gasped below. Taking the brunt, no doubt.

In a skip, the vacuum closed, air and light flooding back in and folding her back, limp. A dull throbbing scream built in power until she realised her hearing had gone too. Seawall jerked back, thundering and crushing and collapsing into the back wall and flinging her back, head slamming against the wall, cutting the lights and filling her vision with white.

She woke up on the floor, blinking into darkness and a new pain crushing her skull and a chilling wetness around her ear. It took a second to remember, but eventually she gasped, cursed herself and rolled onto her knee. With grit teeth, she grunted and forced a new surge of electricity to light the room.

The tunnel now seemed like looking through some cracked, dirty window. Dust clouding the air, smudges and dents and cracks all over the walls and ugly gray smears ruining nice slate. She jerked this and that way looking for the feral, but finally spotted the hullking gray figure slumped against the wall. She froze. Held. And only then noticed the laboured breathing and closed eyes. Even better, Azazel and Seawall stood just as hesitant but no worse for wear besides some pulled fur and scratched scales.

Well.

She groaned, feeling the force of it all catch up. But couldn’t stop the cute grin and deep exhale. Oh, she’d be out when the adrenaline wore off, but for now…

“Where ya at, b’ys?”

“Fine. Bruised.”

“H-heh…” Azazel panted, flashing a broken smile. “I’m all good, boss.”

“Right,” She said. Felt around her ear. A stain of blood coated her paw, but not much. Not enough to worry. “Let’s carry on, then.”

She looked back at the rhydon. Not the worst thing they’d taken out. Wouldn’t been over in a second with Hiudix, but… well. Even if the spikes pushing into her noggin disagreed. Despite her hurting, her energy hadn’t faltered. A twitch of her whiskers and brief stretch made the power slosh around inside her. Enough for a couple hours and really the dungeon couldn't be that long.

Best to get going while her adrenaline kept her up. She looked to the two others, both eyeing her warily, Seawall with torch clutched back in his heavy fist.

She swallowed her nerves once more and nodded into the darkness.

They wandered on.

Not a thing much changed.

Tunnel after tunnel. Crag after crag. Breath after breath—some difficulty there, by Volaphomet’s admission—she though her battery had enough charge, but as they ran into dead end after dead end her light started to dim back to where only seawall’s twitching mouth and the gnarled tip of Azazel’s tail crept into view.

But in subtle ways, the dungeon morphed as they trudged on. She coulda swore the the walls sank in colour. Hard to tell when everything looked so gray, but they got more reason as they turned a corner deep inside.

The walls shifted. Or didn’t. But they had been covered in runes and symbols in a second and Volaphomet couldn’t think of another reason how. Peering back around the corner revealed the same—like they shifted reality somewhere else.

Seawall was the first to say anything.

“Ah… uhuh,” he mumbled. With about as much shock as he could muster. “Can’t read them, though.”

“Doubt it says much,” Volapomet said. Dungeons didn’t make much sense at the best of time and the mad scrawling lining the walls fit together like a shaken jigsaw puzzle. Azazel wandered up to sniff at some, noseblood smearing the wall from after he’d run into one earlier.

“Nah. Don’t got much form it , either.”

“Thought so,” She huffed.

It didn’t do much but slow them down.

Volaphomet couldn’t help but glance whenever a symbol caught her attention—pairs of wings and melting creatures, something kinda like text but warped and ugly. Hard to draw herself away with not much to look at. They walked on, pace brisk, but hesitant and the silence letting whispers creep in again. No wonder pokemon went feral—and with the cold seeping in and curling through her fur, the assault on her senses began to cut at her last nerves.

“You think we’re in the ruins?” Seawall butted in after a while. Pausing at the lead and waiting for them to catch up. He still had his torch, though the tip had started to unravel, black spittle and ash splattered over his purple plates. He jutted it forward and up, just enough to see the heavy reliefs jutting out of what were once perfectly smooth walls. Volaphomet had to crane her neck to see from the floor, but they made just as much sense as the others—red scribblings peeking out like eyes, watching from above. Didn’t help the mood, but she tried to keep a straight face.

Not much farther, a couple steps maybe, that face broke. What coulda been the hallucinations of ocean deprived seafolk—blue glints in the distance—became more and more real the closer they got, until a couple of shiny orbs greeted them. Volaphomet couldn’t help a shaky smile and to revel in Azazel’s broken crowing. Orbs. A rare sight and the first good thing they’d seen since entering the dungeon.

“Ya got space in yer bag?” Volaphomet said, “Ya better.”
Seawall mirrored her excitement, picking up the pace as best he could. He spared a moment to check for traps, but was quick to throw open the flap on their bag and bend down to scoop them up.

“Sure do. I would’ve left some rations if not.” He let a dry chuckle out.

That’s the spirit. She’d taught him well. Azazel couldn’t help but crowd around the nidoking, sneaking pokes as Seawall tried to organise and shoo him off at the same time. That left Volaphomet to rest at the back. She felt it all still, and saw how hard her team sank as they examined the orbs, bodies desperate for rest. Shoulda been that the feeling went away. At least a smidge. A good bit of spirit helped ignore the pain.

Though something nagged at her.

Her eyes kept getting drawn back up to the runes. They didn’t seem to fit—kinda glued onto the wall. Her light dimmed a bit more, the stinging turning her cheeks numb. In the bright shift of light, she caught a sliver of heavy shadow. A twitch. A red seeping between the cracks. Then everything vanished as her electricity weakened further.

“Seawall?” she whispered, staring blindly into the darkness. “Azazel? Hurry yerselves. We gots to shove off. Now.”

The animal part of her hoped keeping quiet would still make them invisible. She tried to force the same on her team as she sidled up close enough to see and they fixed her with puzzled frowns.

Maybe the walls felt the way her muscles tensed. Though she couldn’t see it, the sound of rattling began, up and down the tunnel—a dry, rolling clatter. The sound of building applause.

Nobody needed to be told to run. Someone shouted something unintelligible. Seawall stumbled, torch tumbling and rolling through the dust with a final spray of sparks and went out. Volaphomet gasped and fell to all fours and leapt forward and all her energy blinked in a moment and she could only focus on one thing.

Her light blinked out without fanfare. Darkness took over. She stumbled forward, desperate for handholds to grasp onto and the panicked voices of her teammates up ahead. The sound of earth and thunder powered on above her.

She hardly felt anything as she powered down the tunnel, pure noise overwhelming everything else. She almost missed the creeping red glow intensifying on the ceiling. And writhing tendrils breaking from cracks behind the runes—shadows thrumming with energy.

Volaphomet yelped as something whipped by her ear. She nearly tripped—sliding low to the ground—and ignored the painful chill and spray of pebbles stinging her side.

Faster!” She shouted, as if it would help. And swerved around another volley.

Ahead, Seawall took the brunt. Slowing enough under the assault for her to catch up. A shout up ahead. A burst of fur. Her heart sank. She couldn’t do anything.

Then a light. Up as she turned a corner and got her first full glance of the attackers. A tangle of yamask and runerigus cut out of the wall, their dead eyes staring her down. She dodged too late to avoid a wave of shadows. It cut through her concentration—a wave of exhaustion dragging at her limbs and sickness pounding her gut. But she moved in the right direction at least.

Her vision narrowed. The grays and blacks and red fusing into a canvas of splotches. Visual gore taking over.

But the pinprick of light broke through. And she could do nothing but follow, the constant rumble and shouts chasing her.

Out. Out. Out.

She didn’t know it at first. The noise solidified into a wall and colluded with the blindness to keep her insulated, even as she clawed at grass and whined and rammed her face into a wet corner until her senses began to come back.

Only then did she realise she’d made it out. With a harsh wheeze, she rolled over, shivering eyes taking in the scene.

The exit—just a plain hole in the wall like the one they’d come through. A while of waiting, tense and wracked and heaving with pain, told her nothing had followed.

Her heart skipped a beat.

A glance to the left told her Azazel and Seawall had made it out—one sprawled over the other, both ragged and worn, panting and covered with black stains. Azazel faced her and managed a shaky smile. Shaky because his entire body shook, fur like bent needles framing his face. His eyes were bloodshot.

“P-pretty good, eh boss?”

Volaphomet flopped back, ignored the ringing in her ears and her numb everything, and let herself have a moment to rest.

Frig Soleiro. He deserved jail for this alone.
 

Kiba Makuro

Junior Trainer
Pronouns
He/Him, They/Them
Hello Tomato, I am here for PMDW United Review-tag for Between the Mountains and the Sea. Covering Chapter 4 Falling Apart, Together.

I said I’d hope there would be combat in this chapter and woo boy. Emotional Combat and physical! I really like how mixed Solder and Larcen's relationship is as “partners”. That seems to be the focus of this chapter.

[SPOILER = Actual Review]

It does make sense that the two, who are rather immature in my personal opinion, take quite a bumpy road to partnership. Now that we are in a “new age” of pmd fics, I won’t say that it isn’t super uncommon. I do like the way that it seems like it’s getting slightly rockier with every day they spend together.


The two definitely just spend the whole last chapter, and every chapter to be honest trying to make sure the two don't burst out the seams. It feels more apparent here when it really does come all crashing down.

We learn a tiny bit about Solder and Larcen’s past before and after the little baby's first mystery dungeon run. But it’s mainly just feels, not too much conversation in the first half, just implications. Still holding things to our chest.

The Buizel roped Solder in Secret Field to collect feathers off a particular Pokemon. I love how quite a few of us play with how different the outside and inside of Mystery Dungeon is. Your description of how it appears, how it affects Solder, (and Larcen) was really fun, not too long, and not too complicated.

Unfortunately the “training” that Larcen has in mind isn’t really working, which is pretty realistic. In real life I don’t think most people remember the basics of a martial art by being thrown into a fight at random, even if they are a magical being that has the DNA of fighting. Looks like he'll need a better teacher, or for something more drastic to be the catalyst.


Solder’s amnesia really is ruining his new life. All the mistreatment from Larcen, random mon of Seafolk calling him firestarter, and even within the Guild, (really via Landy) does not really doesn’t help with his anger issues. It’s like a never ending cycle of pain. Larcen tried to keep it to himself for a moment, but the new situation with the Seafolk Ruins, and his position in his Guild, in comparison to the others is weighing on him.


Though it's not as important as this thieving problem. Fifteen years in this shoddy place definitely didn't help Larcen.That problem rears its head in the ugliest of times for Solder. It doesn't help that as a fire-type in a waterfront environment he's at the disadvantage. That'll come back to bite, if throwing money into the ocean wasn't enough.


On a Of course because their relationship is complex, Larcen does try to show support when the Seismitoad doesn't allow the Quilava in to deliver the payment.


Mistrust could be play for why Solder finally comes undone here. The frustration over the constant stealing and near directionless approach to life and the whiplash of Larcen trying to make a big deal out of going in. Solder is upset by it but gives up right away, while Larcen tries to press on again and again. It feels like a boiling pot.


As much as I like this scene there are some points here, and in the chapter where I can't tell who is talking immediately. The focus elsewhere does help with the overall feel of the prose, but re-reading to make sure I guess right does take me out of it. Starting a paragraph with “he” and only using one action to mention whom is talking can also make things a little repetitive if it's in sentences back to back.

We end up at the Guild after a beautiful yet haunting break into Solder’s mind in the ocean. I'm glad we finally get to see him in water instead of being told it makes him uncomfortable after his experience on the ship. It is hard to show off certain things so of course I get it.


Who knew getting a back out the water would turn into skip travel with our handy dandy Landy? The Meowstic’s supposed to be a medic but he’s more like an overworked blunt nurse, especially when he thinks that the Quilava tried to drown himself.

At least Larcen is there, presumably the one who saved him, or brought him back. They ‘make up’ and the status quo almost resets.

[/SPOILER]
Although not much happened for the majority of this chapter, the dynamics with Solder and Larcen made up for it ten-fold.


Nice chapter, keep up the good work.
 

Nekodatta

Pokémon Trainer
Pronouns
She/Her
Partners
  1. koraidon-apex
  2. miraidon-ultimate
  3. skitty
I'm so sorry for the delay, but here's the Smeargle Swap!
I really liked this first chapter, a Mystery Dungeon MC that doesn't know what Pokémon are at all is quite interesting!
I definitely plan to read some more of this for Review Blitz because my interest has been piqued.
I have no idea why it doesn't let me embed the image directly.
They are definitely not having a good day.
Link
 
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