The first was a clean shot in between the eyes. It still had sticky blue juices at the corner of its mouth, and it seemed to have a smile on its face. Keith cut off the ears and put them in the pouch at his waist.
The second was still twitching. The bullet hit it in the thigh, causing a slow yet lethal loss of blood. Keith swiftly grabbed its head and jabbed the knife point into the base of its skull, causing it to jerk in panic before it fell limp. Keith felt a surge of electricity through the gloves that caused his hands to go numb. After he rubbed feeling back into his fingers, he sliced off the ears and dropped them in his pouch. He stopped only to collect his rope and bullet shells before leaving the plains.
Ears, eh? Of course I immediately began wondering what he's taking them for, and my mind went straight to sow's ears. Chew toys. Somehow I get the feeling these aren't actually being harvested for dogmon, but time may tell.
Anytime someone asked how his day was, he held up two fingers.
Not the middle fingers, of course, hilarious though that'd be.
The third had its head lowered, shielding its body with its thick skull and horns. Keith knew better to aim between the eyes and instead aimed above its head, at the spinal cord. Keith's shot pierced the tauros' neck behind the skull, and it instantly collapsed. It slid to a stop just inches away from the barrel of his rifle.
Whoo! Talk about a close call.
Once the food was redistributed, the mayor gave the word and everyone turned around. Keith saw that he was correct; only Maria could slice beef so thinly, the au jus was a perfect, homogenous liquid, and the loaf of bread vented steam through its sliced crust like a chimney.
Oh lord this is making me want a roast beef sandwich like nobody's business.
Keith readied his knife, but his arm brushed against his bulging pack, reminding him that he didn't have the room for a kill. Instead, he looked at the cakes in his lap and tossed one towards the rattata.
It took a few cautious steps towards the pastry, sniffed it, and took a small bite. It seemed astounded by the taste of honey and gobbled the rest in a few oversized bites, then it took a long drink from the spring before running off.
That was as cute as it was pragmatic.
Keith watched the female charizard with a hand on his gun, but her eyes were not on him. Staring at the dead charizard, she dug her claws into her shoulder, leaving four deep gouge marks. She smeared the blood onto the charizard's forehead and flew off.
I love it when we get to see bits of a pokémon's culture like that.
"They're animals. Some animals are smarter than others, but they're still just animals."
The blade slipped, leaving a long, shallow cut on his thumb. He wrapped it carefully and continued talking.
"Come to think of it, humans are animals too. Sure, we're smarter and more civilized, but we're all made of the same stuff. We're all just a bunch of animals."
That's right, son. Get those eyes open, bit by bit.
A single metallic snick was his only warning. Keith threw himself left, and a crossbow bolt buried itself in a tree trunk behind him. He fired off a shot, pulled the bolt back, and waited. The branches told him his assailant was retreating, but he didn't put his rifle away. He didn't even turn the safety on.
He first inspected the bolt. Though it was a crude stone point on a wooden shaft, the bolt was buried an inch in the tree's thick bark. Keeping his rifle up, he searched the area ahead for signs of blood, but he knew that he missed.
He kept his rifle out at all times over the next few nights. The sound of wing-beats and insect chittering unnerved him, but it wasn't until the third night that he heard the groans of branches, creeping steadily closer. He waited for the sounds to approach before he turned around and fired. The assailant ducked the shot, swung from the branch, and fired before retreating. The bolt sailed far overhead, losing itself in the leafy ceiling.
Five more days passed without a sign of the assailant. Keith slowed his progress so he could sleep lightly, and he kept both his rifle and his crossbow ready.
I wonder what his assailant is. Emphasis on "what".
On the tenth day, he ran into a new kind of trap. There was no wire, no snare, no warning. As he walked around, a crossbow clicked in the trees, and a bolt sailed through the air towards him. He dodged, but the bolt scored a deep gash on his cheek. He aimed at the tree, but all he saw were a crossbow and a rope leading away from it.
And there go my thoughts to the first time I found a jungle temple on Minecraft. Arrows, arrows, and arrows. Plus a couple of jerkhole creepers decided I wasn't allowed to get away with the loot. Good times.
"Damn it," he said. "I'll find another way."
He heard the wind whisper "there is another way," and a tree to his right opened like a zipper. Keith stood, putting most of his weight on his good leg as he limped through the tree.
The other side seemed to stretch on forever. Between him and a pool of white water was a stretch of short, verdant grass. Everything beyond that was a pale cream color a few shades darker than the pool. The light seemed to rise up from the pool itself and coat everything like mist.
!
Well this is certainly unexpected. Color me intrigued.
The voice paused a moment before answering none. Keith walked over to the spring, cupped his hands, and poured the white liquid into the raticate's mouth. Its body quivered, and the white liquid gushed from its wounds, enveloping the body. The liquid squirmed and writhed until it evaporated, leaving a white and blue bird with an enormous orange beak.
Keith clenched his fists. "You said there would be no price to pay."
"There was no price."
"Then explain this!"
"I bestow new bodies unto those that need them."
!!!
Intriguingness intensifies, and also becomes a word.
"Don't you dare," Keith growled. "Killing her would be kinder than destroying her personality."
"What makes you say this?"
"I've seen it once already. I have no wish to see it happen again."
Keith's ethics fascinate me. Also I can't help but suspect that he's referring to an incident other than what happened to the raticate. It'd certainly explain why he reacted so adversely to said raticate's... remaking.
The last thing Ty'mir said before Keith blacked out was "if you think this is bad, you'd really hate my sister."
is
instantly intrigued about his sister
Keith gestured at the powder. "Seven point five parts saltpeter, one point five charcoal, one sulfur, ground together for two hours makes gunpowder."
Or, y'know, you could just shoot a creeper.
Keith reached up to touch his face and stopped an inch short of shocking himself. He whirled around and strode back to the smithy. As Verra crossed the door, Keith slammed his left hand onto the anvil, and the pile of gunpowder sitting on it exploded.
Verra screamed and jumped out the door. Keith hunched over and held his hands over his ears.
slkdfskdjfsd well that's certainly one way to shoo a lizard out...
As Kendra walked down the steps, Ty'mir watched the clouds, holding the cane next to him with his mind. A single purple bolt raced across the clouds, and Ty'mir's psychic grip flickered. The cane fell to the floor. Ty'mir picked it up and turned it over in his hands.
A twinge of pain, in between his ears, made him blink his eyes. It grew, worming its way through his head. He lowered himself to the floor, gripping his head as the pain slowly blackened his world.
Oh shit...
Keith kicked the door down and ran inside. Ty'mir was lying on the floor, clutching his head. His cane had rolled into the kitchen.
Verra dashed over to his side. "Elder! What's wrong?"
"I couldda hadda V8..."
"Here's what's happening," Keith said after he jumped off the roof. "Ty'mir's ill and a fifty foot monster is about to attack the city. We have three hours. What's the most powerful weapon we have?"
One guard answered swords, and the other, Keith's rifle.
WELP.
Electricity also rushed through Keith arm. The mareep wool on his arm burned with his own flesh, and he could feel the heat seep into his bones. He couldn't help but scream, but his body was in such agony his lungs wouldn't draw in air. He staggered away from the cannon, mouth agape, screaming silently as he reached out with his charred hand. Fingerbones, gray and smoking, fell from his hand as the tendons burned.
Now there's a nice, gruesome image. :D
Ty'mir hobbled over to a chair and sat down. "Ever since I was a child, I hated my powers. I was always told I had those powers came with a responsibility towards everyone around me. I had to help the wounded, give shelter to the poor, provide for the needy. My sister reveled in her power, using it to help anyone she wanted, but I just wanted to be left alone. Instead, people flocked to me for aid, and over time, this city grew. As more people arrived, they placed a greater strain on my mind. I had to create and teach a whole language just to keep the peace! Many times, I contemplated drinking poison to rid myself of this curse, but I couldn't, not with the knowledge of how much everyone below me would suffer. Then you came and saved these people when I could not. You nearly gave your life to protect this town, and in you, I saw an opportunity. I regenerated as much of your flesh as I could, and the energy backlash robbed me of my powers and sight. Now, I can live in peace, the selfish dream I always held in my heart."
"And that gives you the right to dump all your responsibility on me?"
"What can I say?" Ty'mir asked, waving his cane. "I'm a selfish bastard and I'm unfit for leadership."
Pfffff, that response. I like this alakazam.
"You're unfit? I can't even stand to be around people. Crowds give me headaches, and anytime there's a party, even when it's for me, I always sneak off and sit alone."
"I'm blind as a bat! I couldn't even tell you where the door was in my own house!"
"I can't swim!" Keith shouted. "Do you think I'd have anyone's respect if they saw me try to cross a river?"
"I'm so frail, I can't even walk across my own home without a cane, much less a river!"
This both is and isn't a bragging contest and it amuses the heck out of me.
"Leave it, please. I've been healed enough."
"I need the practice."
"Practice on someone else," Keith retorted.
Kendra straightened up and smoothed back her hair. "As the new leader of Palsitore, I hereby order you to allow me to heal your cut."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you'll undermine my authority, and you'll have to lead the city."
Well played, Kendra. Very well played.
"You're right," she said, "you're not psychic. Father thinks this is because he reconstructed your arm, and the lingering traces of energy allowed the amulet's energy to flow through you. And since that could make your arm explode, I won't ask you to do it again."
...is it bad that I immediately began hoping she'd reconsider
Six blue, muscular pokemon, which Keith learned were called Machoke
Ah. I'd suspected that's what they were, though part of me was beginning to play with the notion of them being hypermuscular azumarill, because of course it was.
The door across from the bedrooms held a large entertainment room, with a twenty-foot plasma screen television mounted into the far wall, a dozen couches arranged in concentric rings across the floor, tables and footrests, speakers spread out on the wall, and a small glass closet beneath the television.
"Have a seat everyone. You're about to see something from before the Day of Ruin."
Oh hello thar, post-apocalyptic setting. Had Verra your skill in sneaking up on a person, Keith's story would've ended many chapters ago.
"I have no clue what this stuff is, but it's called Sprecher's Root Beer, and it's good. Take one and twist the top off."
Oh my fuck yes, I could do with some root beer right about now...
As Keith started to wonder if she heard the cave's pulse, Verra's head slid off his shoulder. He carried her up the stairs, tucked her into her bed, and returned to the cave.
D'aww.
Keith led the way to the kitchen, where strips of meat and round brown lumps were set onto each plate.
"Careful," Keith said, "the brown things are hot. I don't know what they're called, but they're filling."
Keith pointed his rifle at the man on the right. "You next."
He picked up the knife, held his hand above his head, and sliced at the empty air between his hand and his hair. A handful of red and black fur appeared in his hand, and he held it up for the breeze to carry away.
"You win," he said. His body rippled, and the pokemon underneath the illusion was revealed. It was covered in black fur, with red highlights in its long, flowing hair, crimson claws on its hands and feet, and bright green eyes. The pokemon smiled at Keith.
Ah, I was wondering if/when a zoroark would be making an appearance.
She walked away, and everyone parted around her. As she reached the edge of the convoy, Keith raised and fired his rifle. The bullet passed an inch away from the pokemon's head, breaking a hole through the invisible barrier around her with a purple flash.
"I thought so," Keith said, pulling back the bolt on his rifle. "Your brother attacked the city of Palsitore, and I was the one that killed him."
...and then it turns out a zoroark already had! Well played.
A small green light flashing off of Verra's cloak caught his eye. It took Keith a few seconds to realize it was a laser pointer.
Three kittens and one jumping spider immediately pounced on it.
"Jessie, dear, could you warm some tea for our guests?" As his wife pumped out water and set it on the stove to steep, the mayor gestured toward the seats at the table. The mayor took the seat at the head of the table, and after a moment, Kendra took the opposite side. Keith leaned against a corner, holding the trigger of his rifle in his hands and pointing the barrel towards the floor.
The mayor leaned over the table and held out his hand. "I'm James, mayor of this town, and over there is Jessabelle, my wife."
SKDJLAKSD OH HI, ARE YOU NAMED THAT FOR THE REASON I CAN'T HELP BUT SUSPECT OR ARE YOU PLAYING HACKY SACK WITH MY MIND
Verra caressed the leaf and held it up in her hand. A gust blew the leaf up into the air, and Verra lunged at the leaf, crunching it in her grasp. She opened her hand, and her tears fell onto the brittle pieces of her mother's headleaf.
Wow. ;-; That might just be the saddest paragraph I've read in a while.
Saddest paragraph in fiction, anyway.
Keith walked up to the soldier and said, "Doesn't that sound like a blast?"
Keith, was that a
pun?
Hanek snorted and laughed. A fingerbone fell onto the counter as he wiped the tears from his eyes.
Nice.
"What now?" Verra asked as they walked. "What do we do now that we, you know, love each other?"
"I have an idea. There's someone who owes me a favor, someone who can make this situation work for both of us."
!!!!!!
I should've guessed we hadn't seen the last of that being, heh.
Or, I guess, heard the last about that being.
