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Hey everyone! This is my very first fan fic. I made it to accompany a Pokemon tabletop RPG as a backstory to one of my NPC main characters. If you would like to read the history of Kanto and how Obsidian came to be, I posted it as a spoiler in the Introduction (but it doesn't actually spoil anything).
If you'd like to follow a different story in the same setting, you can check out the adventure log on my RPG's home page at http://www.obsidianportal.com/campai...sidian-version
Hope you enjoy it!
Chapter 1: Awakening
“Little one, let me tell you a story of a world that
once was; a world of mystery and adventure. You see, the world wasn’t always as
it is now. There was a time when Pokémon were treated as companions and partners
by people. When Pokémon battled, they did it out of love and respect for their
trainers. In those days, almost anyone could own a Pokeball and catch their very
own Pokémon. Our great city used to be only the size of the Estate District and
around it stretched miles upon miles of grass and trees where Pokémon roamed.
And not the dangerous, wild kind like we have today. Intelligent creatures,
capable of working together to do all kinds of amazing things.”
“When I grow up I want to go beyond the wall and get my very own Pokémon!”
Emmy knew better. The thought of her growing up to be one of those
brutish adolescent trainers horrified her mother, but she knew that she would
only use her Pokémon for good like the old trainers.
“Don’t talk like that, Emmy! Pokémon aren’t like they once were.
They are violent and dangerous creatures and nothing but violence can come of
them. Stay clear of Pokémon and Pokémon trainers, you hear?”
Aya’s stern expression softened as she watched her
daughter squirm with the anticipation of her next question. Emmy took this as
her cue to ignore her mother’s warnings.
“What did people used to do with their Pokémon, mama?”
“Before there was one great city, there were many cities
scattered throughout Kanto. People used to go from city to city competing with
their Pokémon to try to be the best trainer they could be.”
“So they were like the trade-less?”
“Oh no. Back then your worth was not determined by the quality of
your job, but by the strength of your heart. The very best trainers would become
Pokémon Masters, who were great symbols of honor and freed-”
“Tell me about how they kept the bad Pokémon trainers
She’d heard it a million times, but it was the only
reason she reallywanted to hear this
story. She never wanted to listen to any others.
“The Pokémon Masters
would swoop down with their dragon Pokémon and challenge the bad trainers to a
battle. When they won, they would banish them until they could learn to use
their Pokémon for good.”
This part of the story always seemed half hearted from
onerous repetitiveness, but it was always Emmy’s favorite part. Emmy imagined
great trainers wearing capes and wielding swords on the backs of gigantic dragon
Pokémon, their mighty presence causing the bad trainers to tremble before them
and swearing to be good.
While her daughter drifted off into her imagination, Aya
gazed out the tiny, dirty window with a glazed look in her eyes. She sat there
for a moment, contemplating the steady beating of rain against the glass. The
fluorescent street lights on her pale skin made her look like one of the
beautiful stone statues sold by the old man at the end of the street, always
with such sad expressions on their faces.
“Are there any dragon Pokémon left, mama?”
“Nobody knows, but some say…” She trailed off. Her expression
suddenly ashen. “Get under the bed.”
At this, there was a booming knock on the door. Aya
snatched the gas lamp off the bedside table and dashed out of the room. It
happened so quickly that Aya was left scrambling in the darkness to get
untangled from the covers. She finally worked her way under the little bed as
the door slammed open downstairs. A flash of lightning ripped across the sky,
shaking the house in a mighty clap of thunder.
Emmy is prodded awake by the uncomfortable, but all too
familiar feeling of cold rain drops prickling her weary skin. Thunder rolls in
the distance, reminding her that an alley was a poor place to settle for the
night. She lies there for a moment, watching her breath curl into wisps in the
bitter cold air. Phanpy isn’t going to like this. He hates the water. As she
rolls over to wake him, she suddenly sits bolt upright. Phanpy is gone! How
could she sleep so carelessly? What if he’s been captured? Would they send him
back to his owner or would one of the Sweepers get him first?
A garbage can rustles from behind her. A small
elephant-like creatures jumps out, prancing towards her with a half-rotten
cabbage clutched in its prehensile nose. It lays the cabbage carefully on a
sheet of scrap metal nearby, adding it to the small picnic that it had compiled
while Emmy slept. Seeing her awake, it looks proudly up with its beady little
eyes, flapping its floppy ears and picking up a burnt crust of bread to show
Emmy contemplates yelling at him for worrying her, but
he looks so pleased with himself that she would hate to spoil that happy little
expression. Feelings like that are so rare these days. Her concerned expression
“Good job, buddy. I guess the alley paid off after all,
It plops the burnt crust in her hand and begins to tear
into the half head of cabbage. The pair eats their little feast silently as they
listen to the thunder roll in the distance. A rather large rain drop hits Phanpy
on the head and it gives a little shudder. Emmy does her best to wrap him in her
jacket, barely large enough to fit her own scrawny arms in.
“Let’s find a proper shelter for tonight, Phanpy. Maybe a nice
The little Pokémon’s face was drips with concern. There
were many abandoned houses to choose from, for sure, but they were so often
plagued with poisonous Weedle and Spinarak or disease ridden Rattatas. The last
time they tried, Phanpy very nearly missed being hit by one of those toxic
“It’s ok, Phanpy. We’ll
manage. I don’t want you to sleep in the rain again.”
Across the street, weeds envelop an abandoned store
front. The faded sign has been vandalized beyond legibility and the top step
groaned as Emmy put her weight on it. The door, hinges rusted all the way
through, gives easily after one good shove, the musty smell of dust and rotting
wood rushing out of the broken seal. It is an old family diner, similar to the
one that her mother used to run many years ago. The foreclosure line had crept
beyond this district several years ago, turning this entire area into a ghost
town virtually overnight. It is clear that this place was not properly kept up
years before it was actually abandoned.
Outside, the rain starts to come down in sheets. Emmy
attempts to put the half-broken door back in place as best she can and then the
pair begins to sweep the house, checking for signs of people being there
recently and any indication that poisonous things might be about. Emmy takes
extra precaution to tread lightly on the floorboards, as Weedle like to chew
them up in these old places. Aside from a few questionable droppings found in a
cupboard, the house seems to check out. As they reach the small apartment on the
second floor, the layout distinctly reminds Emmy of her old house. Two rooms,
single window. The bed was even positioned right under the window, just like it
was when her mother used to tell stories about the old trainers. How long ago
was it… four years? Maybe five? She couldn’t remember. Time hardly seemed to
In the closet, Emmy finds a set of dusty, but otherwise
serviceable sheets and begins to make the bed. Through the dirty window, she
sees an old man rummaging through the dumpster that they had just cleaned out.
She watches him for awhile. Soaked and miserable, he searches fruitlessly
through the dumpster, staving off the cold, hungry end that awaits him somewhere
down the road. There are those who would blame Pokémon for his fate, monstrous
brutes slavishly obeying the orders of their masters. Emmy could no longer
imagine this to be so. Pokémon
were simple creatures, hoping only to achieve a balance with their environment.
It is humans that make them behave in such ways; that put them in an
environment that they cannot survive in without doing harm to
Emmy’s thoughts are interrupted by a nudge from behind
her. She turns to see Phanpy reaching up with its long nose, eyes drooping with
fatigue. Scooping him up, she sits on the bed with her back to the corner and he
curls into a tight little ball like a large cat. Outside, the weary old man
gives up his search and wanders down the street aimlessly until he disappears
around the corner.
“There were never any Pokémon Masters were there,
Phanpy’s nose gives an uncomprehending twitch, somewhere
between listening and drifting off
“No Pokémon Masters, no dragon Pokémon, no honor.”
Rain continues to beat on the dirty little window pane
and she gazes out of it as her mother once did once every night to tell her
those encouraging little fibs about how wonderful Kanto used to be when she was
younger. The little Pokémon on her lap stirs and begins to snore in an
obnoxiously loud fashion sound for such a little thing.
“Mama was wrong about all of them, but she was also was wrong
about you. Maybe all the Pokémon out there beyond the wall are just as lost and
scared as we are. Maybe all they need is someone to care about them; someone to
teach them that they matter.”
Emmy kept her silent vigil for as long as she could, but eventually she
turned away from the window and settled down next to Phanpy. If she had stayed
awake just a little longer, she might have seen a menacing group of young
trainers turn the corner of the alley.