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He who is Merely a Rumour
Firstly, I would like to say that this is my first fanfiction, so it may be a bit shaky in parts, but please don't hesitate to point weaknesses out - I like to know where I went wrong. :) All feedback, positive or negative (although please be constructive) is welcome.
Also, it's just occurred to me now (15 October) that I never gave this a rating, and was never pulled up on it. XD; It's suitable for ages thirteen and over for violence (of course, if you're older than that and are touchy around violence, then I wouldn't recommend reading further. Conversely, if you're under thirteen and aren't bothered by violence, happy reading. :D) --- Chapter List: Prologue PART I Chapter One: The Gate Opens Chapter Two: Tiny Knife Chapter Three: An Omen or Two Chapter Four: The Shadow Spreads Chapter Five: Forgotten Deeds Chapter Six: Two Penetrating Eyes Chapter Seven: Rex Chapter Eight: The Stench of Death Chapter Nine: Almost Chapter Ten: Burst of Light Chapter Eleven: The Bell Tolls for Us All Bridge: The Rise of Lord Augury PART II Chapter Twelve: The Awakening Chapter Thirteen: Cogs in the Machine Chapter Fourteen: The Throat is so Crucial, yet so Exposed Chapter Fifteen: To Dance with the Devil Chapter Sixteen: A Fear so Pervasive Chapter Seventeen: Two Sides to Every Story Chapter Eighteen: As Flimsy as Diamond Chapter Nineteen: Rising Cold Chapter Twenty: A Song of Solitude Chapter Twenty-One: If Only Chapter Twenty-Two: How Did We Get Here? Chapter Twenty-Three: Pulling the Pin Chapter Twenty-Four: Arc of the Grenade Chapter Twenty-Five: Impact Bridge: The Autocrat PART III Chapter Twenty-Six: Past and Future Chapter Twenty-Seven: Mystery, oh Sweet Mystery Chapter Twenty-Eight: Toward Twisted Ends Chapter Twenty-Nine: Walking Nightmare Chapter Thirty: Fireside Squabble (COMING SOON) --- PM List (VM/PM me or ask in this thread to be added) AllTimeLow1 I'm Not Your Hero Sgt Shock Eliminator Jr. Kyuu-chan --- Prologue The tourists certainly weren't expecting to see a Pokémon come out of the ground. However, it was one of the last memories they would ever have. The sun struck the golden pavements of Spear Pillar. It was truly a site to behold. Ancient pillars, broken from thousands of years of existence marked the edges. The sky was beautifully clear. And, most notably of all, one could look down and gaze over all of Sinnoh. It all happened so fast. A large vortex opened up, colours of dark and light purple swallowing each other as it swirled around itself viciously. Out of the vortex emerged two Pokémon: one a large serpent, the other, a comparatively tiny, dark weasel. The large serpent panted with exhaustion: this was obviously the end of a battle, not a beginning. Following the two Pokémon was a strange looking man, with spiky, steel-blue hair and a silver jumpsuit. His face betrayed no emotion, and despite having come out of an otherworldly vortex, his walk was calm. For nearly one-hundred years, Cyrus had trained in the Distortion World. He had pit his Pokémon against one another, and they had become stronger than anything he’d ever seen. After all, time stood still in the Distortion World: Cyrus had entered at the biological age of twenty-seven, and had emerged at that age just the same. All the while, Giratina rested. Until today. When he rose from his slumber, sensing Cyrus in his world, he had tried to destroy him. This was proving far more difficult than he had originally anticipated. “Dark Pulse.” Weavile shuddered, releasing a wave of blackness, moving rapidly through the air towards Giratina. In a puff of dark, otherworldly smoke, Giratina disappeared, avoiding the attack. Everything was quiet. The tourists stood in shock. Weavile was crouched, ready to pounce. Cyrus, wearing no emotion at all, simply stared ahead. Suddenly, the fabric of space and time split, and Giratina emerged, almost flying at Weavile. “Night Slash!” Weavile leapt forward, viciously swinging its powerful claws, all the while trying to land away from Giratina’s attack. The claws struck Giratina, but the seemingly lethal attack didn’t even cause the powerful creature to wince. It just continued its rampage, ramming the entire weight of his body into Weavile. The tiny creature, now under the weight of this giant, writhed in pain. “Dark Pulse!” Weavile tried, but it was too difficult to even breathe. It struggled hopelessly, beating its hands pathetically against Giratina’s tail. The movements became weaker and weaker. Then they became sporadic. Soon, they stopped altogether. Giratina turned to Cyrus, who simply stood there. For once in his life, he was out of ideas. He was highly intelligent and resourceful – he had managed to bring forth Dialga and Palkia before – but he was caught completely off-guard when Giratina attacked him today. He had been in the wrong world for far too long. Even though he knew he was about to die, he felt no fear. He felt nothing. Suddenly, Giratina leapt towards Cyrus, striking him with his tail, throwing him over the side of Mt. Coronet. It was like a person casually tossing away a tissue. Suddenly, the earth began to shake. Giratina turned to the portal. Its eyes widened with horror, as it realised that the portal had been open for too long. The portal began to pulse, and Giratina leapt for it, in order to close it on time. But it was too late. The portal represented a bridge between the two worlds. Only in Turnback Cave could this bridge permanently exist. Upon Spear Pillar, the bridge becomes unstable. As Giratina leapt inside the portal to return to its own world, the portal released a burst of... something. There is no word in the English language to describe it. The concept was completely alien. Until now. It was not a force. It was not energy. It had no colour and no sound. As it traveled across the world, millions died. Entire environments seemed to be upturned. After the three seconds it took to cover the entire earth were over, Sinnoh was destroyed. Nothing was left as it was. Other regions were shaken as well, entire cities being removed from the map by this thing. From this day forward, it would be known only as “the Event”. The three seconds that changed the world. As a result, all governments assumed emergency powers. It didn’t seem unreasonable: after all, the world was facing the largest crisis ever. Never had the world been so close to apocalypse. Some even said that it was the apocalypse. And, after a decade, all regions had given up these emergency powers. All but one. * 100 AE (After the Event) Torcra “Miss Appleby.” It was a small, dark room with a lamp barely managing the tied-up teenager to see her captor. All she knew was that he was a man, wearing some kind of dark cloak. His face was obscured by darkness, as was hers’. “Co-operate or die,” threatened the Torcran officer simply. He had become so used to killing, so used to death, that he had become numbed to the idea of taking a life. “What the hell do you want?” “As you know, we kill most Pokémon trainers that we catch. Most.” They sat there in silence, until the officer taunted, “Ask me what we do with the others.” “What?” The question was spoken through gritted teeth. “We give them a second chance,” he said, with mock lightness. The girl sat there in silence. In all her experience, the Torcran government, or the Oligarchy as it was known, never showed mercy to criminals. There was some kind of catch. There had to be. “And in exchange, you want...?” “Ah, so you’re talking business now,” said the agent, his tone lifting maliciously. “In exchange for your life, you will join us. Do you accept, trainer?” He then raised a gun to her head. “Or should I shoot you instead?” |
Very nice prologue :)
You have definitely set it up for a great potential of a story. I find it interesting that you started with Cyrus (who didn't anticipate that outcome), and now we are in the future, where we assume, he will no longer take a part of, as now in a new region, a dictator of sorts takes over. I bet you'll have lots of ideas running in your head about what to write next now ;) I didn't find many mistakes at all, only thing I saw so far, was that you said he had trained for 60 years first, than 35 in a paragraph below. Otherwise great job, and can't wait to read the next chapter, as I bet the readers will want to know more about the Oligarchy. ;) |
Thanks for the feedback, Feign. :)
As for the 35/60 year difference, the 60 years was that he had "lived for over sixty years" (i.e. 27 [age according to Looker] + 35 years in distortion world). Do you think that should have been made more clear? |
Ah I see that now.
Yeah the "and yet had lived for over sixty years" does make it sound like he lived there for a total of 60 years (perhaps others could help on that too). Which in a sense would make him 87(?). |
This is awesome can't wait till the next chapter
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Thank you for the compliment, Twilight Requiem. :D
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Yep, or perhaps to make his years more clear, have something like " and yet his age was 60"
Bad example, but something like that. Or perhaps in his current look (that being he looks to be 27). If I am confusing you, it is probably because I've already confused myself. |
just make so that he is 60 but asn't actullay aged
It is super effective |
Hmmm, this is what I'm considering changing the sentence to, but I first want to know whether it's effective:
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so that would make Cyrus 59
that sounds alot better |
Yep definitely makes sense. :)
Perhaps to simplify it you could remove: in and out of the Distortion World As you had already mentioned it in the previous sentence. |
According to Looker on Pokémon Platinum, Cyrus is twenty-seven. My own plot has him in the Distortion World for thirty-five years. Unless I'm missing something, this comes to a total of sixty-two.
EDIT: OK, I'll remove it if it sounds confusing. ^^ Thanks both of you for your help. :D |
Your welcome
One thing Does Cyrus kill Giratina? |
No worries ;)
It probably won't matter much now if Giratina is dead or not, as we are now focused on a new region etc, unless of course Giratina comes to importance later. |
Heh. Giratina's survival or death is a plot detail that I'm not going to reveal just yet. ;) To answer Feign's musings, whether or not he is significant is not something I have even decided yet. :P But I am a big fan of closure, so I will reveal it sometime.
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I'm guessing he is like the god of this place
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Chapter 1: The Gate Opens
Chapter One: The Gate Opens
Teartas City. It was a gloomy place in the region of Torcra: smoke twisted to the sky, people never smiled, and there seemed to be no colour – just concrete. The pair emerged from the car, the press bursting from casual chitchat to an excited race to the door. Two cloaked figures emerged from the ebony limousine – they were members of the Cloak, an elite secret police organisation. Their appearance, though expected, did send ripples of quietness throughout the chaotic group. Following these two guards were a man and a teenage boy. The man was Evan Emerit, an Oligarch, one of six. He wore a lavish black suit, his hair a greying blonde. He smiled confidently at the press, and, unlike so many of his smiles in the past, this was sincere. It was a genuinely happy day for him: the boy standing next to him was off to the Cloak Academy. His name was Bevan, and it was his sixteenth birthday: the age when one could legally receive a Pokémon in the region of Torcra. It was by far the most restrictive limit in the world, but, of course, “it was all for the protection of our children,” as the Oligarchy’s demagogues repeated. He had scruffy, light blonde hair, fiery blue eyes, and was a good six feet. He wore a black T-shirt with elaborate white patterns moving across it, and casual jeans. He was used to press attention, but didn’t think much of it, except who the hell wastes their life following other people? Had he not been born into privilege, it was possible that Bevan would have been sent to a re-education camp, or even executed (despite the Oligarchy protecting its fifteen-year-olds from the danger of Pokémon, it was perfectly happy to execute them. Of course, only for the most serious of political crimes.) He was one of those people who never grew out of the “why?” stage as a child – Bevan was a stickler for finding out the reasons behind things and dispelling lies, never satisfied with a “that’s the way it’s always been.” “My son Bevan is hoping to become one of the Cloaks,” Evan smiled while he lied to the twenty or so microphones shoved in his face. In reality, Bevan’s father had had enough of him, and had forced him into this path. “He will, of course, receive no special treatment. Like every other hopeful, he was flown here and, tomorrow when the gates of Route 616 open, he will have two weeks to reach the academy on foot.” One reporter shoved a microphone into Evan’s face. “Mr. Emerit, do you have any comment on the recent terrorist attacks?” “I am not here to talk about that; this is my son’s special day,” said Evan coolly, his smile breaking slightly. Bevan slouched, scratching his head, bored. He had always liked the appeal of catching and training Pokémon, like he had heard they do in other regions. He didn’t know the details, and they were only rumours after all. But there was no way that the son of an Oligarch would ever be able to get away with being a private Pokémon trainer. Eventually, one brave reporter shoved a microphone behind the Oligarch to the boy. Startled by the fuzzy black ball, he withdrew his head slightly. “Bevan, are you excited?” “No comment.” Despite this being the bane of a reporter’s life, Bevan had unwittingly done this pushy reporter a favour – had he done anything to cast himself in a negative light, and it had been displayed, the reporter would have been punished. Not just by a revocation of license or fine, but by imprisonment. And Torcran prisons were infamous for their maltreatment of prisoners. * “Well Bevan, the gates open in an hour,” said Evan to his son across their expensive hotel room’s dinner table. Evan, of course, was there free of charge, despite having vast sums of personal wealth. “Yeah,” said Bevan impassively, while unconsciously stroking his pokéball. While it was true that Bevan would have to take the same route that everyone else did, his father had not been entirely truthful when he said that Bevan would receive no special treatment. Being the son of an Oligarch, the Pokémon that rested at his belt was in fact a Larvitar, a rare dinosaur-like Pokémon imported from Johto, a region on the other side of the world. Evan simply sighed, annoyed at the lack of enthusiasm from his son, looking down at the newspaper on his lap. At least that school will straighten him out, he thought to himself smugly. On one hand, he had a certain admiration for his son, and could see true potential in him. However, he couldn’t find himself to love him, with his excessive questioning and disobedience. To an outsider, one would be horrified that a parent’s love for their child was conditional to their obedience, but insubordination to a superior in Torcra was intolerable. Especially when the superior was an Oligarch. “Well then, Bevan, since it seems you’re not going to touch your breakfast, you can get your ass to Route 616.” “It’d be bad publicity, you know, if I went alone,” Bevan said moodily, simply staring at his father. Evan smiled cruelly, a rare flash of honesty escaping his lips. “The press wouldn’t dare report badly of my family affairs.” Bevan scuffled to his room. Under other circumstances, Bevan would have pointed out the pushy reporter and his father would have screamed at being contradicted. However, his father used the word “family”, a word used so rarely by either of them since five years ago. Bevan was only eleven when he heard his mother being dragged away… Blinking back the tears that the memory of her screams inevitably brought, he busied himself with packing. He didn’t need to pack much – just the things he’d got out last night. When he did this, he swung the bag over his back, strode past his father, and continued down the stairs. “Bevan – wait.” Naturally, it was his father, not wanting to take the chance of a bad headline, however slim. His father met him on the stairs. “I got you a present.” Evan handed his son five Pokéballs, a luxury that almost no other trainer would have on their journey up Route 616. Bevan sighed, accepting the present – he’d never been one to turn down something based on principle. “We can never be OK, dad. No matter what you buy me.” “What happened to you mother can happen to you, too,” said his father ominously. Bevan opened his mouth to interject, but his father continued. “Not by my pen, no; I severely overestimated my own stomach in the incident with your mother, but when I’m gone, and there’s no one to protect you, you’ll annoy someone in the ranks. And knowing you, that someone will probably have the ability to issue all kinds of extrajudicial warrants." It wasn’t in a gloating voice, but a soft, dark one. Grimly his son nodded, as if to say, “I know.” Uneasy by the silence that had fallen over them, Evan quickly changed the subject. “Right, well, let’s put on our public faces and get to Route 616. A new future awaits you, Bev - son.” And so they walked together, their intimidating convoy of Cloaks pushing the reporters aside, and they stood with the many proud families at the gate of Route 616 its inviting trails gleaming beyond the titanium bars. Tears were shed, hugs were exchanged, and the feeling that characterised the atmosphere more than anything else was pride. Looking from afar, one character sat in a treetop, his appearance shrouded in the shadows of the leaves. Oh yes, he thought to himself. Who wouldn’t be proud that their child was off to become an assassin, a torturer, and a spy for our beloved Oligarchy? I see you Emerit, down there. Your guard isn’t very proficient. He looked down at the unconscious Cloak that was kept asleep, despite all this noise, by the Butterfree sleep powder that coursed through his blood. But no, Mr. Emerit, you’re no use to me if you’re dead. Ah! The gate opens, and your son struts from your protective grip. It won’t just be the other Oligarchs that you need to protect him from now… ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Comments and/or constructive criticism will be deeply appreciated. :) |
:O This is awesome, I mean like I want more now kind of awesome (though I know I want you to take your time to write on).
That father of his, is quite scary in a way. He seems like the type to be 'your best friend or worst enemy' kind of guy, but even then he seems deceptive. I can't really tell if the son will end up becoming another student once past the inital test, or if he will rebel, and that treetop character adds another twist, will the treetop character only solidfy the son's willingness to train, or will he betray his father and join the man? Oooo good good XD Only mistake I found was: I severely overestimated my own stomach in the incident with your mother All I can say is that you've set it up for some extremely fascinating read, and cannot wait for more, but encourage you to take your time. |
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And thanks for pointing that typo out. :P One of the few that slipped under the radar, I guess. ^_^; |
For a first fic, this is excellent, right off the bat. Your grammar is great, and your narrator voice is confident and direct. Only a couple of things I saw didn't quite make sense-
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As for your plot, I like it. The Cyrus-bypassing-time thing is cool. Just one problem. There aren't any Pokemon in the Torn World to train against. Have you played Platinum? You just wander around, walk on walls, take rocky lifts and roll boulders into holes. It sucks. But anyway, yeah. Cyrus getting owned by Giratina is automatically cool. Readers like to see bad guys getting their comeuppance. I also like your description of the wave of energy; how it had "no colour (yay for NZ spelling!), no feeling, no sound." It's a good way to get the magnitude of the event across. AND THE DESTRUCTION! I likes me some accidental genocide, but that's not the point. The point is it's always good to see somebody unafraid to take risks and make Pokemon a little darker. Which leads me to Chapter 1. The idea of the Oligarchy has, admittedly, been done before under many different names, but I think you can pull it off. Bevan and his father have a nice dynamic going on so far, and I'd LOVE to see where that goes. The mysterious figure in the tree also adds to the whole gloomy air. Again, you're taking it that extra mile, and kickin' it. So well done, my countryman, and I'll be following this story as sure as my name's . . . well, I can't tell you that, but you get the point! Be safe, think positive, and don't eat yellow snow! EDIT: Ninja'd. Feign got the typo. |
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You could probably leave it as is, until you find the best and most proper solution you would like. :) |
I'm too sleepy to give a proper review, so I'll just say this:
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I'll read the whole thing later. |
Hmmm, you're right, "subsequently" is probably not the best word. "As a result of" would probably fit more nicely. Thanks for pointing that out. I look forward to the rest of your review when you get the time. :)
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Hmmm, late night ideas of training:
- Pokemon entered in through various portals in the past - x problem occured to have the pokemon enter - Unown - Cyrus brought a cage full - Perhaps the Pokemon used to belong to trainers who are now dead or gone - If it wasn't the narrator who said there wasn't any pokemon in the distortion world, that can always add for leeway to have them, as that researcher guy could have easily just been wrong. |
No, Feign's right. I could imagine him pulling a Shinji and making his Pokemon knock the stuffing out of each other. I mean, they're just tools, right? A means to an end?
EDIT: DAMMIT FEIGN STOP NINJA'ING ME!!! |
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*glares at the anime's discreptancies* |
Hmm, thanks for the advice, Feign and Sparkling Dragon. ^_^ I'll write up an explanatory paragraph for the prologue now. :D
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Chapter Two: Tiny Knife
Chapter Two: Tiny Knife
Freedom. Two weeks of it. The hike across Route 616 was what Bevan was most looking forward to. He knew the end was grueling obedience – the instructors couldn’t truly harm him, due to his father, but they could certainly make his life miserable. The journey started tamely, like most other routes: patches of emerald grass and a convenient, well-trodden track. But it got nasty very quickly, with hostile Pokémon and rugged terrains. Most kids “phoned out” (that was, called the helicopter service to take them back home, at their parents’ expense) around the halfway mark. Bevan knew he couldn’t do that. He could never admit defeat to his father. It wasn’t long until a small, dark hyena popped out of the bushes, staring at Bevan. A few of the other people around him looked, and then looked away, not wanting to waste their time with small and weak Pokémon. To them this wasn’t a merciful window of freedom – it was a race. On the other hand, Bevan wanted to see what his could do. Come to think of it, I haven’t ever released you from your Pokéball. “Larvitar, go!” Now, this command turned some heads. Half the heads that turned were ones curious to see what a “Larvitar” was. The other half knew, and were deeply impressed at this trainer’s acquisition. Most people never recognised him, as in the few media appearances which he’d made, he faded into the background. As soon as the young Larvitar had emerged from his ball, the Poochyena charged at it, teeth bared. “Larvitar, Iron Defense!” This Larvitar was special, even for something so rare. A genetically superior Tyranitar had been bred with an equally superior Aggron – the result, a lethal Pokémon that knew moves that the average Larvitar wouldn’t. Larvitar held its arms crossed to its chest, its body hardening, its skin transforming into some kind of organic metal. The Poochyena closed its mouth, not wanting to sink its teeth into something so hard, but ended up banging its jaw into the little green dinosaur. “Bite!” With its new, hardened teeth, Larvitar opened its jaw. The Poochyena tried to flee, but Larvitar grabbed one of its hind legs, knocking it off balance and causing the Poochyena to yelp in pain. “Ram it!” Larvitar leapt into the air, not feeling any increase in body weight due to its metal. Poochyena, on the other hand, felt its full force, falling to the ground unconscious. Bevan reached for his Pokéball, and then remembered what his father had told him: “No matter what kind of trainer you are, a Pokémon will never obey you if you catch it after knocking it unconscious. It will still view you as its adversary, and will often attack the trainer.” A rare piece of advice, kept securely in the back of his mind. Bevan smirked shyly, at this point realising that quite a crowd had developed behind him, their eyes transfixed on his rare Pokémon. Well, almost all of their eyes. With the battle over, the crowd mainly dispersed, each of them realising they had some place to be. A girl about Bevan’s age approached him. Her hair was a fiery red, her eyes a glowing azure. She was about a foot shorter than Bevan, and smiled. “Hello,” she said pleasantly. On the surface level, anyway – but Bevan couldn’t help but detect a hint of – pity? “H-hello…” Bevan said, wondering why someone would want to pay attention to him. In the last five years, the only person he had held a conversation with was his father. “Isn’t it funny how the son of our most prominent Oligarch lacks so much prominence himself? Even with their eyes on your battle, not a single one recognised you.” She smiled. “Well, actually, I’m kind of glad about that. I don’t really like lots of attention.” The girl smiled. “I got that. I saw you in the crowd of reporters yesterday.” “Maybe it’s just that The Voice’s pomposity is so loud, it drowns me out,” Bevan said thoughtfully, more to himself than to her. The Voice was the position that his father had on the Oligarchy. He was essentially the head of propaganda: he ran schools, state television and newspapers, regulated the “opinion industry”, et cetera. For this reason, he was the only Oligarch that was not reclusive and secretive. Bevan had always thought quietly to himself that Devil’s Advocate would be a more accurate title. He noticed the girl staring at him, and realised he didn’t even know her name. “Charlotte,” she said, when he asked. “Nice to meet you.” Charlotte, at seventeen years of age, was on the same quest that Bevan was. She was drawn to Bevan not due to his battling style, nor his rare Pokémon, but because she sensed that he had an unwilling attachment to a ruthless Oligarch. Secretly, she hated her rulers, but had the good sense to shut up about it. As for why she was becoming a Cloak – there was no other option. Bevan, on the other hand, was not only awkward, but suspicious. He was highly analytical, and having his father as a model for how a person is, tended to distrust people. And here was this girl, treating him nicely for no apparent reason. What did she want? Charlotte gestured forward, a smile on her face. “Shall we walk? We don’t want to lose out.” “Tell me about yourself. Where are you from?” Bevan was trying to get a backstory, to see whether she could be trusted. “I didn’t come from anywhere as privileged as you,” she sighed, looking ahead. “My parents and I were in a cult.” “A what?” She smiled a sad smile, and then quickly removed it from herself. Not in front of him, she reminded herself. “Haven’t you heard what a cult is before?” There was something suspicious in her voice – maybe it was something he was supposed to know? “N-no, I don’t. It’s just, I’ve been homeschooled for the last five years. I haven’t really left the house much.” “Homeschooling?” Charlotte replied with an eyebrow raised. “Isn’t that illeg – oh..” The ban on homeschooling was enforced by those under Evan’s charge. He was hardly going to order himself arrested. “The outside world is… ugly…” “How do you mean?” Charlotte stopped, turning seriously to Bevan. “People get dragged out of their homes at night. Sometimes they show up, and you have to act like nothing ever happened. But most of the time they don’t. There are cults – fringe religious groups – around the region. Rogue scientists experiment with gene splicing. Pollution is rampant. People are impoverished. The military struts around the streets, and the secret police tap into every aspect of your life.” Bevan narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “People – can come back? After they’ve been taken?” “It doesn’t happen often. When they come back – they’re completely different. They’ll show up like they’ve just returned from work, and you need to play along.” “So, these cults – how come the government doesn’t crack down on them?” Charlotte bit her lip, and motioned to continue walking. “Most of the cults are secretly run by your father’s department. They don’t make it official, but they realise the power of having something to believe in. The Oligarchy is scared of a unified, above-ground religion, in case it becomes independent. So, instead they form tightly-knit cults around the country, with varying themes. But their message is the same: obedience to the Oligarchy.” Bevan was horrified, but remembered what his father was capable of. Maybe his cruelty wasn’t personal, he thought. Maybe that’s just how he is. That thought didn’t make him feel any better. “How did you get out?” “Ran away,” Charlotte said simply. Although Bevan wasn’t all that familiar with social etiquette, even he could tell that she didn’t want to talk about it. Not yet, anyway. Charlotte looked up, and smiled in Bevan’s direction. He felt it strangely comforting – true compassion. An emotion which he had not experienced for a long time. “We’re here,” she noted, a tinge of regret in her voice. Ahead of them, countless trees of gargantuan proportions towered over them. It was a sharp change from the peacefulness and security of the open road. Route 616 had just got interesting. * Evan stood firm against the masses and the press, all of them eager to hear his comments. The flash of cameras and the waving of microphones against his stand would have been intimidating to most, but not this man. Not The Voice of the People. Not the celebrity of the Oligarchy. He raised his hand, and the crowd fell silent. After thirty seconds of silence had passed, he began speaking. “Fellow Torcrans, we have, as you know, been experiencing terrorist attacks. Three days ago, the Cronine Hotel was bombed with an Electrode by a man who goes by the name Dagger. He appears to have a few accomplices, all of whom dress in black. “Allow me to make this quite clear. This man is a coward. He cravenly buries his shrouds his body in darkness, and his alias seems to be that of a small, archaic weapon. In the process, this criminal has wounded and killed several brave men and women, all of whom work to keep our society safe. “My brethren: how dare he? His attacks are attacks against society! Against us! Shall we allow this medieval weapon to get the better of us?” He outstretched his arms, silently imploring them to answer him. One man let out a shout. “No!” A fanatic woman quickly followed. “No!” The crowd joined in, yelling, “No! No! No!” Evan raised a hand, and they fell silent. Leaning forward, he continued his speech. “Then, the people have spoken. The people have taken a harsh stance against this radical murderer.” He outstretched an arm, and spoke upwards. “Let it be known, Dagger, that the will of Torcra is against you. You shall be brought to justice!” And with that, the crowd applauded, screeching fanatically at their savior. They were safe from this terrorist: The Voice had assured them so. Despite his passionate speech, Evan was not so sure. Recently, his men had discovered that one of his guard had been overpowered at Teartas. A card was found in the pocket of his cloak. It read “Dagger”. |
Definitely coming along very nicely, awesome job! :D
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Thanks for the review, Feign. ^_^ Is there anything you thought I could improve on?
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I had written something down, but it just happened to be at the exact same time the server went down for its scheduled maintenance.
Overall I really like this chapter, and perhaps because it was late night, I got confused with as to why the media seemed somehow to be following him. |
Heh, that was one of the things I "fixed" in proofreading - it was even more confusing than that beforehand. :S Do you think I should make it clearer, or was it totally Late at Night Syndrome?
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I think I read the 'before you edited it version', so it is probably fine. As I was also reading it at 2am XD
I'll read it in a bit, though I have to do some other things atm (went shopping for 5 hours, a rarity for me :( ) |
Wow, this is really good, and is this the first pokemon story youve ever done.Im sitting here tired as hell reading it, and i cant wait for chapter 3. Also, is there going to be anything else about Cyrus,that was seriously unexpected :)
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Thank you for the compliment, dark_giratina. ^_^ I'm almost finished Chapter Three, so I imagine it will be up in a couple of hours or so. :D Is there anything you thought I could improve on?
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Oh I think I know why, I figured that the path was desolate, or meant to be taken by only those that were to become Cloaks, but I guess the media was allowed to follow? Or that they're near the gate still?
Sorry for my confusion. |
TBH, im not the best pokemon fiction writer or critic , so really i thought it was all good
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Myself, I haven't been using totally original characters, only some new ones, but the rest are from the anime. In some respects however, this could be more difficult than an original character, because you have to get that character's personality correct. I've really like cit's stuff because of his writing style, and how it captures the reader :) I think the imagination is another good start too. If let's say you wanted to write a Pokemon fic, a good place to start (if you watch it often), is to make up a Pokemon episode. You don't have to write it down, and it doesn't have to be anything spectacular, it just has to have all the elements that make up a story (intro, initial incident, rising action, climax, falling action, denoument, end; variations of which, taught by different schools). One place to start at would be the conflict. :) Hope that helps ;D Quote:
Now, this command turned some heads. Half the heads that turned were ones curious to see what a “Larvitar” was. The other half knew, and were deeply impressed at this trainer’s acquisition. Most people never recognised him, as in the few media appearances which he’d made, he faded into the background. I bet what it probably was too (when it was late at night), was the change of scene back to the warning to the public and the assassin guy. |
Hmm. The idea of the turning heads and the onlooking crowd was that they were the other trainers, the Cloak hopefuls. Should I make that explicit?
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Hmm not unless if it was already mentioned that they were there (or that they had begun at the same time as Bevan, which I suspect is what I remember reading) XD
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It was implied in many ways, like the gates to Route 616 opening and there being families of people to see their children off in Chapter 1, and then this again in Chapter 2:
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lol okay, that's good to hear XD I'd reread it again, but I'm bouncing around atm XD
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Chapter Three: An Omen or Two
Chapter Three: An Omen or Two
Samantha Lincoln was commonly regarded as the maternal Oligarch, the one who did not seek vengeance, nor bear grudges. Her face was chubby, her eyes kind. It was an image that she maintained well, even towards the other five Oligarchs. One can therefore imagine her surprise when, after a long day, stumbled to her bed, switched on the lights, and saw her husband’s mangled corpse on her bed. Her green eyes widened with shock and fear. She put her hands in her puffy, auburn hair and began to hyperventilate. Who could have penetrated my security? She slowly crept forward to see an envelope on her dead husband’s chest. Hands shaking, she ripped it open, and scanned the letter. “To the Ears of the Oligarch, “I know your secrets. Both of them. The first, my dear, is that you are not the kind woman you make yourself out to be. You sit in your office, watching torture surveillance. You delight in how your department makes it possible for the middle-of-the-night seizings. You are sadistic. You are bloodthirsty. This would be enough for me to hide in your closet and rip you open …” Quickly, upon seeing this, the distraught Oligarch ran to her massive closet. No. Nobody there. Frantically, she began reading the remainder of the letter. “as you read this letter, but I will not. No, you are no use to me dead. For I know your other secret. “It turns out that the rumour that the Oligarchy worked so hard to squash is not merely a rumour. Quite the Augury, isn’t it? Reveal to me the reality behind the rumour, or the killings of your family will not stop. “Sincerely, Dagger.” She noticed that “Augury” had a capital letter. This wasn’t just some sick coincidence from someone with a good vocabulary. Whoever this person was, he knew. And he was dangerous. * “Larvitar, go!” “Growlithe, go!” “Taillow, go!” “Machop, go!” Charlotte and Bevan, upon entering the forest, had been confronted by two other Cloak hopefuls. And now, with a lush green floor and towering walls of trunks as their battlefield, they were entwined in a double battle. Now, the Pokémon and their trainers stood determined, all eager to prove themselves: after all, for three out of four of these trainers, it was their first trainer battle. Despite the lack of movement, there was a real atmosphere of danger hanging in the field. One of the trainers felt a knot unclench in his stomach, his trainer's instinct telling him it was time. “Machop, Low Kick his Larvitar!” “Sandstorm!” The scrappy, blue fighter leapt at the small dinosaur, grimacing, but Larvitar stepped back, opened its mouth, and released an impressive cyclonic wave of sand. Machop tried to dodge it, but was too slow. The next thing it knew, it was on the ground in a mound of sand. “Great job, Larvitar!” It was incredible: Bevan had never had power over anything before. The rush of power that this battle gave him, the adrenaline, the pride: it was indescribable. “Growlithe, Ember the Machop!” “Dodge it!” “Don't let it get away! Iron Head!” “Stop her Growlithe, Taillow! Peck!” The four commands were executed in a whir. Charlotte’s Growlithe spat bright amber flames in the direction of the fallen Machop. Sensing danger, the fighting Pokémon quickly rose, rolling out of the way. And into the charging, now metallic head of Larvitar. Shaking its head in a daze, Machop leapt at Larvitar, fists clenched in rage. Its trainer, barely keeping up, hadn’t even given the command to do so. “Larvitar, another Iron Head!” The two Pokémon leapt, their attacks striking midair, metal scraping muscle. Larvitar knelt, obviously in pain. Machop's face contorted with fighting spirit, the sweat in his eyes nearly blinding him. His body shook with pain and exhaustion. Machop, again without any input from his trainer, made a feeble attempt to strike his opponent, but collapsed almost as soon as his feet left the ground. Bevan couldn't help but admire this Machop's determination, a determination that reminded him of his mother... “Return, Machop.” The trainer on the left looked down at his Pokéball with a frown on his face, an odd mixture of disappointment and frustration. Meanwhile, Taillow began swooping down at Growlithe, its beak half-open, ready to strike. “Jump and Bite!” Growlithe looked up at the incoming bird calmly, and when it came into close range, leapt up, teeth bared. Throwing its sharp teeth against Taillow's side, each slashing like a dagger, Taillow yelped in pain. Desperately trying to escape, the Taillow flew off course, struck a tree, and drooped to the ground unconscious.The battle was won, two proud trainers standing tall against two slumped ones. Mumbling angrily, these two slumped trainers withdrew their Pokémon, one adjusting his glasses, the other clenching his fist. They skulked off, glancing at the trees beside them, hoping to find the right berries to revive their Pokémon. Charlotte and Bevan returned their Pokémon, but in a noticeably cheerier mood than the winners. While walking, Charlotte struck up a conversation. “You’re quite the trainer. Have you ever used a Pokémon before?” “No, but the theory of it has been the object of my homeschooling for the past year. You seemed pretty confident yourself.” “Well, I have trained before. I used to have a team of six, actually.” “Oh? What happened?” But Bevan, with a sinking feeling, thought he already knew the answer. “After I escaped, you know, the cult, I had nowhere to go. So, I became a trainer – that is, someone who gets a Pokémon, battles other people with it, and each trainer places a bet on themselves winning. And I was good. Good enough to get myself off the streets and into a comfortable apartment, anyway. “As a private trainer, though, I was a pariah. But, about a month ago, I was taken.” She didn’t seem to lower her voice to a whisper. That’s odd, Bevan thought. Why is she so confident? “My Pokémon were taken from me, and are no doubt being retrained and separated. My old friends –“ She paused, blinked rapidly a few times, and continued. “Are probably now bloodthirsty fiends. I guess that transformation would’ve been impossible if I was allowed to keep them…” “So why are you here now?” “Because they wanted someone like me as a Cloak. They gave me a Growlithe and told me to be here in a month. I thought about fleeing, but I knew that wasn’t an option. It was here or prison.” Bevan shook his head, distraught at the realities of the world. He knew that the Oligarchy was terrible, but to hear an account of this first-hand was something completely different. “Hey – you said that your Pokémon were your ‘old friends’. Why did you call them that?” “Bevan, you’re going to hear a lot of things about how Pokémon are weapons. Tools. But, they are not. And what’s more, the power of Pokémon is incredible when there is a bond between owner and trainer. A Pokémon that fights reluctantly, even a strong one, is bound for a loss.” “So, you're saying my Larvitar… I should befriend him?” “Exactly. Tonight, when we set up camp, I’ll show you how a Pokémon is more than just a substitute for a gun.” * “My Lord, someone… knows…” It was a dark room, lit feebly by a collection of embers in the fireplace. On one crimson, velvet chair was a very distraught looking woman, and on another, a cloaked figure in black with a featureless silver mask, save for its narrow eye-slits. “Yes, I’m aware of this, Samantha. Naturally, as the most powerful Oligarch, you’ve dispatched units to deal with this?” His voice was cold and could best be described as sounding like two mangled spirits speaking at once. “O-Of course. I’ve got my best men covering my house for evidence.” “And yet, you come to me, so I presume you have found nothing.” “Nothing, Lord Augury, apart from the letter, which I’ve already given you.” Samantha Lincoln shook, her eyes wide with fear. “This… Dagger. Why have you failed to find him? Perhaps the Eyes is a better Oligarch to deal with…” “No, my Lord. Please. The Eyes – she only controls the secret polices. She’s nothing without me. You’ve said so yourself!” The maternal face of Samantha had contorted very quickly into an ugly image, a lust for blood burning in her eyes. “My dear Samantha, if only you could focus this disgust towards something productive. Anger at your fellow Oligarchs upsets the balance which this society lives in. And draws suspicion to you, I might add.” “S-sorry, Lord Augury.” Her voice shook with the calming. “A-am I safe? You know, from him?” “With your husband, I was not close. I could not have foreseen his death. But with you, Samantha, your impending death, capture, or injury would most certainly be premonitory.” The masked man paused. “I wonder whether he knows about my… abilities. That provides the key.” “I don’t understand.” “He’s obviously a clever, powerful, and dangerous man. Should he know of what I’m capable of, he would have prepared for it, in ways unknown to us. In this case, he could have waited for years, scheming, coming up with some clever plan of which we could not imagine. If not, however, he shall prove rather incapable of causing any real harm.” “What if he has prepared? What will we do?” “When the time comes, Samantha, the answer will present itself to me. He seems to be biding his time, committing small acts that are distant from me, either coincidentally or deliberately.” “What if… he’s more…?” “More powerful than me?” Augury chuckled derisively. “Politically, I have you, the controller of all information. And, as far as him actively confronting me – you know what I can do.” As he said that, a telepathic wave of every emotion that Samantha had ever felt washed over her. She shook in its incredible power, remembering who she was talking to. She didn’t even know whether or not her master was human. If he was, he was the most powerful human alive. “I-I’m one Oligarch. What if he has more, my Lord? Emerit’s a bit suspicious – he seems to know an awful lot about Dagger.” “Evan Emerit, like yourself, has had the opportunity to be killed. Someone proximal to him was killed, like someone proximal to you was killed. In both instances, he could have struck. But instead, he waited.” Something clicked in Samantha’s mind. “My Lord, this means… of course! He knows you exist, because he knows the name Augury – that wasn’t leaked in the rumour. But he doesn’t know which Oligarch you control. He’s probably plotting similar things to the other Oligarchs, testing us.” “How much emotion have you betrayed?” Samantha looked down, trying to recall. “I… I acted my part. A confused, distraught woman. I didn’t act suspicious at all – I know how to hide my personality.” “Bravo, Samantha. Then that bloody terrorist still won’t have a lead on how to find me. He’ll see you as a dead end, proceed to rough up the other Oligarchs, and fade into obscurity after failure.” It was hard to tell with Augury’s inhuman voice, but there seemed to be doubt. Strong doubt. Samantha caught this, but misread it as the general paranoia which seemed to be in her master. For years she had served this masked figure, not once seeing his face. He rose and walked slowly towards the small fireplace, cloak waving ominously behind him. “Do not attempt to find out how he knows the name Augury, the risk is too great that the name will spread if you do so. Instead, I shall discover this myself.” “How, Lord Augury?” “I have private networks, Samantha. Underground methods of discovering things that are too risky for the Ears to find.” Suddenly, the fire was extinguished, and for three seconds, Samantha simply sat there in darkness, accustomed to this treatment. The lights then flickered on, and she was sitting alone, fanatically resolved that the murderer of her husband would be avenged. * “It’s confirmed, sir,” said a muffled voice over a static-ridden telephone line. “Augury’s controlling Lincoln as well.” “It seems that this monster has many heads,” replied a grim voice. ------------- ------------- Hopefully the title is beginning to make a bit more sense. As always, all comments and criticism will be appreciated. ^_^ |
I like how it is developing so far.
Hmmm, but I think you have to work on the Pokemon battles portion. I know these can be pretty tough (it can be pretty tough I know). Leaving the calls of "Iron Head" etc by itself might prove to be confusing and the reader might not feel apart of the battle. It was good you mentioned the sequence after the call of the attack, but it could be better put in the same sentence. Of course, it is a lot more tougher when four trainers are battling it out, but hopefully I can show you some. I'll make up characters and Pokemon: Steven and Julie sent out their pokemon, as did their opponents. Julie's Chansey and Steven's Scyther were ready for the battle. Their opponents sent out a Magmar and Ryhorn. The battle began. "Scyther, use cut on that Magmar!" Steven cried, calling the first attack. Julie followed immediately after. "Chansey use double edge on Ryhorn." Both Pokemon began running towards their opponents, readying their respective attack. But the opponents were ready. "Ryhorn! Dodge it and use slam to stop the Scyther from attacking Magmar." One opponent called. "Magmar overheat now!" The second opponent yelled. Scyther began to be envoloped in magmar's overheat as he aproached it. It got distracted with the heat, and was suddenly slammed by the Ryhorn. Chansey however, was still on target and its double edge hit the Ryhorn sending it flying a few feet back. Etc. I know its not the best, but it can show a few things, first it shows the action in a little bit more ease. Plus you can have the characters describe a bit of the action to simplify things. As well, you can place emphasis on your main characters by using their names (or Pokemon names), leaving the opponents a little more faceless, and even mysterious. The roleplay forum has lots of examples of Pokemon battles. I know it can be difficult, every time I am required one, it takes some thinking. As it is pretty clear, it is not like the game, and its hard to write what we'd visually see sometimes. Hope that helps. :) Lol I really want to know Charlotte's true intentions. EDIT: Another good way of engaging the reader into the battle is really describing the fight, everything from the subtle movements (bending knees, preparing to jump), to the trainer's current thoughts, what the attack did, etc. Of course, overly describing a battle can make it seem long and confusing, not to mention the fight itself would seem to be going in slow motion. |
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Heh, yes, I always knew that battles would pose a problem, because it's a situation where a lot of description is warranted but too much will result in slow motion. I decided to jump right into a double battle because it was better to jump into the deep end of the pool and master the hard part early. I've rewritten the double battle, and before I change it, would you mind checking it out? --- --- “Larvitar, go!” “Growlithe, go!” “Taillow, go!” “Machop, go!” Charlotte and Bevan, upon entering the forest, had been confronted by two other Cloak hopefuls. And now, with a lush green floor and towering walls of trunks as their battlefield, they were entwined in a double battle. “Machop, Low Kick his Larvitar!” “Sandstorm!” The scrappy, blue fighter leapt at the small dinosaur, grimacing, but Larvitar stepped back, opened its mouth, and released an impressive cyclonic wave of sand. Machop tried to dodge it, but was too slow. The next thing it knew, it was on the ground in a mound of sand. “Growlithe, Ember the Machop!” “Dodge it!” “Don't let it get away! Iron Head!” “Stop her Growlithe, Taillow! Peck!” The four commands were executed in a whir. Charlotte’s Growlithe spat bright amber flames in the direction of the fallen Machop. Sensing danger, it quickly rose, rolling out of the way. And into the charging, now metallic head of Larvitar. Shaking its head in a daze, Machop leapt at Larvitar, fists clenched in rage. Its trainer hadn’t even given the command to do so. “Larvitar, another Iron Head!” The two Pokémon leapt, their attacks striking midair, metal scraping muscle. Larvitar knelt, obviously in pain. Machop's face contorted with fighting spirit, the sweat in his eyes nearly blinding him. His body shook with pain and exhaustion. Machop, again without any input from his trainer, made a feeble attempt to strike his opponent, but collapsed almost as soon as his feet left the ground. Bevan couldn't help but admire this Machop's determination, a determination that reminded him of his mother... Meanwhile, Taillow began swooping down at Growlithe, its beak half-open, ready to strike. “Jump and Bite!” Growlithe looked up at the incoming bird calmly, and when it came into close range, leapt up, teeth bared. Throwing its sharp teeth against Taillow's side, each slashing like a dagger, Taillow yelped in pain. Desperately trying to escape, the Taillow flew off course, struck a tree, and drooped to the ground unconscious. Mumbling angrily, the two trainers withdrew their Pokémon, one adjusting his glasses, the other clenching his fist. They skulked off, glancing at the trees beside them, hoping to find the right berries to revive their Pokémon. |
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Also while it does work to have “Jump and Bite!” and others by themselves, especially if it will be described in the next paragraph, while confusion is less of a problem, by saying who it was and especially how they said it, can really develope the mood of the fight. “Jump and Bite!” The boy yelled, clenching his fists, hoping for a strong attack. etc Hope that helps :) |
Thanks for the advice. I'll use it in my edit. ^_^ Just one thing:
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As long as you stay consistent (not for each and every attack, but like that you would all of a sudden stop using it in your 5th + chapter, then it could work :) |
Yeah. I suppose when they get to the Cloak Academy, I could clarify that by one of their topics of instruction being "battle terminology" (or something) in order to minimise the time it takes to say something.
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I like it.
Reading this fanfic honestly makes me feel good; it is compelling and interesting. You have unique characters with unique personalities. I'm especially interested in the Augury (capital A =D), and I'm guessing he is the one that is merely a rumour. Actually, now I think about it, it's more likely to be Dagger, as Augury's existence doesn't seem to be known at all in the outside world. Speculation aside, your writing style continues to be excellent. Your battle scene, however, is somewhat lacking. Even your revised version is somewhat . . . rigid, perhaps. Add some more emotion, perhaps, and a light analysis of what is happening, rather than just listing. Here's an example from an upcoming chapter of Spliced, to show you what I mean- Spoiler:
The battle does carry on a bit longer, but I think that'll be sufficient. Bevan's relationship with Charlotte and his relative naivete interest me. i finally got around to reviewing!!! Holy hell, I got triple ninja'd! |
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*Suspense* Anyway, addressing the battle scene again, I'm a bit confused about what you mean by "light analysis". Could you please elaborate on this before I do Battle Scene v3? :) |
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That is to say, it can be anything from the omniscient perspective briefly describing the event, to any of the characters exclaiming about the event. The latter, really allows for impact as it provides emotion to the situation, while the the Omniscient view brings fact without bias. |
By light analysis, I mean you could have a character's internal thoughts regarding type matchups etc. Just don't overdo it like some authors who have a page of internal dialogue between each move/spell/laser barrage. Not looking at you, Paolini.
And it's also good to have some interaction between trainers as well. See above example for, well, example. But really, double battles are zetta hard to do, so I admire you for having the guts to try. Oh my god, I've just realised I'm gonna have to do some in Shattered. The MCs are twins, after all. Crap! |
Hmmm, OK. This is my plan for the battle scene revision (not a total rewrite, so changed parts are in bold). Comments, are, as always, appreciated. ^_^
--- --- “Larvitar, go!” “Growlithe, go!” “Taillow, go!” “Machop, go!” Charlotte and Bevan, upon entering the forest, had been confronted by two other Cloak hopefuls. And now, with a lush green floor and towering walls of trunks as their battlefield, they were entwined in a double battle. Now, the Pokémon and their trainers stood determined, all eager to prove themselves: after all, for three out of four of these trainers, it was their first trainer battle. Despite the lack of movement, there was a real atmosphere of danger hanging in the field. One of the trainers felt a knot unclench in his stomach, his trainer's instinct telling him it was time. “Machop, Low Kick his Larvitar!” “Sandstorm!” The scrappy, blue fighter leapt at the small dinosaur, grimacing, but Larvitar stepped back, opened its mouth, and released an impressive cyclonic wave of sand. Machop tried to dodge it, but was too slow. The next thing it knew, it was on the ground in a mound of sand. “Great job, Larvitar!” It was incredible: Bevan had never had power over anything before. The rush of power that this battle gave him, the adrenaline, the pride: it was indescribable. “Growlithe, Ember the Machop!” “Dodge it!” “Don't let it get away! Iron Head!” “Stop her Growlithe, Taillow! Peck!” The four commands were executed in a whir. Charlotte’s Growlithe spat bright amber flames in the direction of the fallen Machop. Sensing danger, the fighting Pokémon quickly rose, rolling out of the way. And into the charging, now metallic head of Larvitar. Shaking its head in a daze, Machop leapt at Larvitar, fists clenched in rage. Its trainer, barely keeping up, hadn’t even given the command to do so. “Larvitar, another Iron Head!” The two Pokémon leapt, their attacks striking midair, metal scraping muscle. Larvitar knelt, obviously in pain. Machop's face contorted with fighting spirit, the sweat in his eyes nearly blinding him. His body shook with pain and exhaustion. Machop, again without any input from his trainer, made a feeble attempt to strike his opponent, but collapsed almost as soon as his feet left the ground. Bevan couldn't help but admire this Machop's determination, a determination that reminded him of his mother... “Return, Machop.” The trainer on the left looked down at his Pokéball with a frown on his face, an odd mixture of disappointment and frustration. Meanwhile, Taillow began swooping down at Growlithe, its beak half-open, ready to strike. Charlotte smiled. Taillow had an air advantage, but it was too slow for her Growlithe. And no doubt, she thought, its trainer doesn't even know how to use it.[/b] “Jump and Bite!” Growlithe looked up at the incoming bird calmly, and when it came into close range, leapt up, teeth bared. Throwing its sharp teeth against Taillow's side, each slashing like a dagger, Taillow yelped in pain. Desperately trying to escape, the Taillow flew off course, struck a tree, and drooped to the ground unconscious. The battle was won, two proud trainers standing tall against two slumped ones. --- --- EDIT: Ninja'd. |
I'd say that is a definite improvement. Nice job ;D
Its ironic though isn't it? That what one of the hardest things to write on in a fic (pokemon battling), is also somewhat the main thing. |
Thanks for the comments and patience.
Yeah. XD Probably because Pokémon was intended to have been done with a visual medium. :S I'll get the hang of it eventually. ^^; |
Much, much better. You are now officially better than Nintendo at this. Not like that's hard, but . . .
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Chapter Four: The Shadow Spreads
Chapter Four: The Shadow Spreads
Bevan laughed jovially as Charlotte told him yet another joke. Humour wasn’t something he was used to in his father’s house, and this was a delightful experience. They were wrapped up in their sleeping bags around a small, but working campfire, eating fruit. On the other side of the warm fire were Larvitar and Growlithe. Bevan was amazed that his Larvitar had personality. It was, as Charlotte had put it, more than a substitute for a gun. How right she was. Bevan was reminded of a more innocent form of himself in Larvitar. Like Bevan, Larvitar had grown up in luxury and comforts as a child, and was experiencing the world first-hand. In a way, Bevan envied his Pokémon – Bevan’s adventure was a confrontation with it. He knew the darkness that resided in people’s hearts. Larvitar had not seen what he had seen. Heard what he had heard. To Larvitar, this was an adventure. This world was a place to be explored. His face was betraying his thoughts. “Bevan, what’s the matter?” “Oh… nothing.” “Come on, Bevan, something’s up,” Charlotte pushed. “Tell me.” Bevan looked away, eyes prickling. “I… it happened a long time ago. It’s nothing.” Charlotte stared at the back of Bevan’s head for about ten seconds before saying in a low voice, “Don’t let what happened to you define you.” “W-What do you mean?” “Bevan, I know it’s hard to trust. But, you need to get past that if you want to stop being a victim.” Bevan spun around and looked Charlotte in the eye. “Charlotte, no offence, but we met yesterday. Knowing my father, he probably planted you here to befriend me.” Charlotte bit her lip rather fiercely. “You… think I’m here to hurt you?” “Knowing my father, if he did put you here, it would be to spy on me, not hurt me. And because he doesn’t trust that I’m capable of social interaction.” “Bevan, I know that we’ve known each other for a short time. But we’ve both suffered from traumatic events. I can see it in your eyes. Whatever it is, you’ve let it define you.” “Define me?” Bevan’s tone was rising, a crazed mixture between anger and vulnerability. “I have too. My solution was to become a trainer, probably the most despised profession there is. Most trainers I met were scarred, but trainers don’t band together. Even before the major crackdown, it attracted unwanted attention. We couldn’t bond. You… You’re the first person I told about how I was once in a cult.” Bevan looked down, and sighed. “I’m… I’m not ready… to open up.” “You never will be, Bevan. But until you do, whatever sick thing happened to you will forever be who you are, rather than something that happened to you.” Bevan was in an odd situation. He was cynical, and despised the vague notions of “society” and “people”, but this one person who seemed to show him affection… it was different. The person, separate from the people. He began to whisper. “Five years ago, my mother was acting strangely around my father. She began to challenge him at every step. Late at night, I could hear them arguing. She’d often shout things like, ‘How could you do this?’ I don’t know what they were fighting over. I think… my father must have had an affair, because one night she threatened to tell. Tell the public.” Charlotte leaned forward, a mix of sympathy and fascination in her eyes. “Then… my father did something… I’ll never forget. His voice went all… weird. Like, it was contorted with pain. It sounded so awful, so angry, so hurt. My mother went quiet. I couldn’t hear her. I had to lean against my bedroom wall. I could barely make out his words: ‘You left me no choice.’ “I then heard him pick up the phone, and say, ‘Take her away. Before I do something stupid.’ Ten minutes later, all I could hear were…” He looked away, blinking rapidly. “All I could hear after that were… her dissipating screams.” * “So, we’re not going to do it?” Charlotte’s soft whisper seemed to be directed at a bush. Beside her, Bevan slept soundly. “I have a better idea,” the shadowy bush replied. * Morning. The bright sun crept through the trees, and the ground was more sunlight than shadow. The dark forest of Route 616 was coming to an end, much to the delight of Charlotte and Bevan. At their sides, Larvitar and Growlithe walked, happy to be out of their Pokéballs. Bevan couldn’t help but notice an uncertain look on Charlotte’s face. “Are we… lost?” “No,” said Charlotte distantly. “How hard were you trying in our double battle?” Bevan looked quizzically at his companion. “My hardest, of course.” Charlotte frowned. “I… didn’t want to draw attention to myself, so I wasn’t. I was holding back.” Bevan couldn’t understand where this is coming from. Not sure what to say, he just looked ahead and continued walking. “Double battles are a bad measure of general skill,” said Charlotte. “You’re relying on the prowess of someone else. I need – I want, I should say, to see how good you are.” “Are you challenging me to a battle?” Charlotte smiled, nodding. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. Remember, be creative. Be clever.” How good could Charlotte be? Sure, she’d handled a team of six, but now she only had one. How much could a trainer’s skill matter? All these questions buzzed around in Bevan’s head, but they all seemed to be dwarfed by the big one: why does she suddenly want to battle me now? Charlotte moved about twenty feet away from Bevan, her Growlithe moving in front of her. Instinctually, Larvitar did likewise. They were now fighting each other, their trainers’ instinct dominating. No longer were they tentative friends, but opponents. Bevan was confident, and it showed on his face. He had the type advantage. But he knew he lacked the speed to make the first strike. I have to wait. “Growlithe, Leer!” “Sandstorm!” Larvitar stepped back, preparing to release a tornado of sand, but Growlithe locked his gaze. A strange wave of fear swept over Larvitar, and all it could do is return Growlithe’s stare. Ending almost as quickly as it started, Charlotte issued another command, “Roar!” Growlithe leapt forward, releasing a terrifying roar. Even Bevan tensed. Larvitar, on the other hand, was petrified, attempting to leap back into its ball. “Larvitar – Iron Head!” “Bite!” Larvitar turned, still terrified by the two scary attacks, to be met by a speedy and confident Growlithe with its teeth bared. Before it could even poise itself to attack, Growlithe had its teeth wrapped around Larvitar’s head, tightening its grip. Bevan felt inadequate and hopeless. His expensive, imported, rare Pokémon hadn’t even successfully released an attack. A brainwave struck him. “Iron Defense!” Larvitar’s body turned metallic, and immediate Growlithe released its grip, whimpering in pain. “Iron Head!” Charlotte simply shook her head. “Ember!” Bevan realised his mistake: he had solved the problem of Growlithe’s teeth, but had lost his type advantage. Larvitar was about to lose spectacularly. And the poor dinosaur did. It charged headfirst into Growlithe’s fiery saliva, falling to the ground in pain as Growlithe casually stepped aside. After wriggling for a couple of seconds, Bevan’s Pokémon was still. Unconscious. Sympathetically, Charlotte took a white berry from her pocket, turned Larvitar over, and squashed the berry on his chest, gently rubbing it in. She looked up at Bevan sympathetically. Bevan couldn’t meet her gaze; he was too ashamed. “You – you have to do more than just attack,” said Charlotte, her eyes transfixed on the waking Larvitar. “What could I have done?” “You should’ve told Larvitar to swing itself. It would have escaped Growlithe’s grip and not lost its type advantage.” Charlotte said it so easily, without thinking. At that moment, it became clear to Bevan that the trainer’s mind mattered just as much as the Pokémon’s strength. * After half an hour of walking awkward silence, the duo emerged from the forest. Larvitar was resting in his Pokéball. Charlotte had done likewise with her Growlithe, not wanting to appear to be gloating about her Growlithe’s victory. Bevan stared up at the mountain above them, seeing a few figures in the distance struggling to climb it. It was tall, rocky, and from the looks of it, very dangerous. There was an alternative, but it looked even less appetising: a tunnel. It didn’t seem to be like a regular tunnel, where the light gradually fades: no, one could see the biting darkness by just peering from the outside. “We’ll take the tunnel,” said Charlotte, trying to muster up an enthusiastic voice. Not returning her false enthusiasm, Bevan looked at her strangely. “Are you insane? We’ll get lost and the copters won’t be able to find us! Besides, we won’t be able to see!” Charlotte knelt down, digging a small bracelet from her bag, and strapping it around her wrist. “Flash bracelet,” she said. “High grade, too. It uses the skin of a Kadabra. Once I’ve turned it on, it’ll be easier to see in there than it is out here.” “Where do you get these things?” Bevan couldn’t help but be impressed. Charlotte derived a lot of her happiness from those around her. Responding cheerily, she said, “I got it from a trainer a while ago. He’s a good friend of mine.” Reality, however, dawned on Bevan. “How will we get through? Even if we can see, we still don’t know the way…” Charlotte winked. “We don’t, but I do. When the gates are closed, Route 616 becomes the perfect place for Pokémon battles of… questionable legality. I know my way around this place. How else do you think we got out of the forest so quickly?” The cheeriness returning, the pair headed off into the dark confines of the black tunnel. * “Lord Augury, they have kidnapped my sister.” Hand trembling, Simon Gordon handed the bloodstained letter to a gloved hand. “To the Brain of the Oligarchy, “The photos enclosed, are, as you will no doubt recognise, those of your sister. You may try to study the situation as much as you like, as is typical for you to do, but allow me to give you the conclusion: time is running out for dear Amber. “I am preemptively disappointed in you, for I know your reaction will be hurt, vulnerable, and terrified. You are a hypocrite. You can endure no pain, but the pain your experiments cause is incalculable, doctor. And that is not to say nonexistent or irrelevant, which you would so love to believe. “How shall we proceed, Simon? Reveal to me the man behind the mask. Do not allow your sister to die for your bloody fanaticism. “More sincerely than you would like, Dagger.” Augury finished reading the parchment, and returned it to the Oligarch. “My Lord, what shall I do?” “Have you asked for any forces to find her?” “A small military force, so as not to arouse suspicion. But I figured that you would be the best to find her.” “Good man. I knew I made the right choice, all those years ago, when I had to decide which Oligarch to work with. I will dispatch my best men to find her.” Simon, his features obscured by the darkness of the room, smiled arrogantly. “My Lord, can you catch him?” “This Dagger, he has proven himself to be slippery and dangerous, as you’ve seen with the attacks at Cronine. But not to worry. He will die.” “My Lord, how does he know about you?” “I have no idea, Simon. This is the first I’m hearing of him knowing my identity. He’s probably a conspiracy theorist who has attached a deep significance to a stale rumour.” “What if… you stop being he who is merely a rumour? What if your identity is revealed?” “Five years ago, that would have been dangerous. But I possess far more power over the system than I did then. It would be a blow, certainly, but ultimately, my position is immovable, my power unstoppable.” -------------------- -------------------- As always, comments and constructive criticism will be deeply appreciated. ^_^ |
Ah, it is the Augury who is merely a rumour. Another good chapter, Citrinin. Your Pokemon battles are getting better, but still need a little work. One thing I noticed -
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or "Charlotte stared at the back of Bevan’s head for about ten seconds, and then said in a low voice, “I’ll share if you do.”" Charlotte's character interests me. She's very philosophical; some of her dialogue would almost be better as narrator voice. Just when you write her speech, stop and ask yourself if you can imagine anyone really saying that. Then again, if there's a real reason for it, eg that cult of hers pounded that stuff into her from a very young age and made her recite it every day, that'd be fine. Your story is developing very fast. How long do you expect this to be? I did enjoy this chapter thoroughly, though. Keep up the good work! Oh, and I had to lol at Charlotte talking to the bush. ^_^ EDIT: I is forgetful :B *subscribes* |
Ah, crap. That was a leftover from after I did a major revision that I did to the chapter where Charlotte was going to describe her cult, until I decided to leave it until later. D:
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Again, excellent chapter, it is definitely interesting to see two sides of the story, while both of them are still shrouded in mystery.
If I may make a suggestion, perhaps instead of saying “Don’t let what happened to you define you.”, you could substitute 'define' for 'control'. I like how it seemed that Bevan understood what happened to his mother, had to happen, like that he wasn't totally rebellious. But he was living a sheltered life, so that could be part of the reason. And I too liked the random bush talking XD |
Actually, 'define' works fine (lol rhymes) in context. I'm not sure where you got 'control' from.
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Maybe it's just an NZ idiom, but the idea behind the statement is that this event shapes his life, and it seems like natural language to me. I'd like to hear input from other users on this topic - have I allowed a little bit of local language to slip into my fic? Or does it make sense?
And thanks for the review, Feign. ^^ Did you think there was anything I could have done to improve? |
"Define you" could be that, someone on the outside could recognize that person for that defining behavior. While "Contol you" is more internal.
Perhaps it is just word choice preference XD In which case, it is best left the way wanted. :) EDIT: Quote:
Hmmm well you're definitely improving on the battles, though it is an easier battle ;) |
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Putting yet another fic on my to-actually-review list. Sorry for no further comments/lurking the crap out of your story instead of actually giving a direct review. |
As will become evident later on, Bevan's personality was totally reshaped by the taking of his mother. In this case, I think "define" is best. ^^;
Edit: Ninja'd. Thanks for the input, Valentine. ^^ I look forward to your review. :D |
You know, I don't think it is an exclusively NZ idiom. I'm not sure it's even an idiom at all. *slaps self for being off-topic* Valentine's right - I couldn't have said it better myself. (as usual . . . *grumbles*)
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At work I'd love to say "How ya goin'?" But I wouldn't be surprised if everyone I said that to, would be like "What?". I'd also love to say "Aluminium" instead of the other one :( But I do say "No worries." (instead of no problem) and "Soda" (instead of pop) which ironically doesn't have much to do with an Aussie influence, but more of my own decisions. |
Chapter Five: Forgotten Deeds
Chapter Five: Forgotten Deeds
“You have a lot of nerve showing up here.” A blonde-haired woman, both beautiful and angry, glared at the visitor to her house. She had a confident exterior, but her eyes seemed to betray a weariness. Outside, there were armed guards. In reality, this small house, despite its comforts, was a prison. “It seems I’m not the only one with nerve. You’ve been talking, haven’t you?” Lord Augury strode towards her. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t… Evan wouldn’t…” “You speak so stupidly, woman. And yet you seem to have intelligent contacts. Does the name Dagger ring a bell?” “The terrorist? You paranoid freak.” Amanda waved her hand dismissively and attempted to walk away, only to find her legs paralysed. “It’s not wise to be obstinate. I’m a dangerous man, as you well know.” “What are you going to do? Kill me?” Her voice was cold and derisive. “You’ve ordered your men to stop me from doing that myself. Take off your mask, and then I’ll consider helping you.” “I will do no such thing.” “It was because of you that I lost my husband, my son, my life! And now, after five years, you come back here to recruit my help? You sick bastard.” “Your husband is –” “As much as you like to think that, it’s not true. The Evan I married would never succumb to you.” “Amanda, one last chance. One last chance before I move through your mind.” Amanda snorted. “You think I care about that anymore? After what you’ve done to me? You can have my mind, but not my obedience.” A vicious, unconcealed sneer ran across her pretty face. After saying this, she felt every memory in the last five years flash before her eyes in the space of a minute. It was overwhelming. And with that, Lord Augury strode angrily out from the secluded house, his question unanswered. * It was incredible how effective the flash bracelet was. Despite being deep in this rocky, brown and grey maze of underground tunnels, Bevan could see perfectly. It took three hours, including breaks, but Charlotte confidently lead the way into the burst of daylight. “Wow,” exclaimed Bevan, impressed. “That gave us about a two-day gain on the mountain climbers.” Looking ahead, he remarked, “Any surprises?” “This stretch is naturally tame. But… the Cloaks put up traps here. They change every year – I’m just as in the dark as you are on this one.” Bevan collapsed, breathing heavily. “After that hike, I’m not ready to get hoisted up by the ankle just yet.” Typical rich kid, Charlotte thought to herself. In the distance, Bevan noticed some tall grass ruffle. Sure enough, a small Pokémon emerged. It was round, furry, and purple, its eyes wide and pink. “Venonat,” said Bevan to himself, smiling. “You can do it, Bevan,” said Charlotte encouragingly. Pulling the Pokéball from his belt, he threw it at the ground, and a now fully recovered Larvitar materialised. “Larvitar,” the Pokémon said, immediately understanding. I have to weaken it. But not knock it unconscious. “Larvitar, Sandstorm it into that tree!” Larvitar opened its mouth and released a curved cyclone of sand. Venonat leapt to react, but it was too late: the next thing it knew, it was at the foot of the tree that was previously to the left of it. Charlotte was impressed: Bevan had learned not to just yell attacks, but to think of strategies. Had he blindly ordered a Sandstorm, Venonat would have been blasted into the straight road beyond, giving it the perfect chance to escape. Angrily, Venonat leapt forward, its eyes glowing. Suddenly, Larvitar’s skin faded into monochrome, and then returned to normal. Damn, Bevan thought. He knew from his studies that this attack was Disable; he could no longer use Sandstorm. “Larvitar, Bite!” Larvitar leapt at the small bug, teeth bared. Venonat shook, releasing a wave of psychic energy. Larvitar was knocked back, its attack thwarted. Venonat sprinted forward, getting ready to finish its attacker off with a close-range attack. Charlotte leaned forward. Could Bevan do it? Venonat stopped, shook with a burst of psychic energy, and in that instant, Bevan yelled, “Iron Defense!” Larvitar’s body became metallic, and with this, repelled many of the psychic waves of Venonat. Being at such a close range, Venonat was struck by its own attack, and ended up suffering more damage than Larvitar, falling to the ground. “Ram it!” Larvitar threw his metallic body against Venonat, injuring it almost to the point of unconsciousness. Almost. Bevan knew this was the time. Grabbing a pokéball from his belt, he threw it at Venonat. It looked like it was about to miss horribly (Bevan was a terrible shot), but it curved midair and struck Venonat just the same. Opening, it absorbed Venonat as red energy, and fell to the ground. The ball wriggled a bit, but only feebly. After a couple of seconds, the ping came. Bevan had made his first capture. * Amber Gordon sat on a crimson, velvet couch in a small room. There was a bed, a refrigerator, and even a television. The walls had a stripy wallpaper, but as Amber knew from banging on them, they were metallic. Suddenly, the door opened and a man entered. Or a woman; it was hard to tell, on account of the black clothes that hid everything but two brown eyes. “Are you another minion?” Her voice was full of contempt and anger. “Do you want another photo shoot to send my brother?” Closing the door behind him, the masked figure spoke in a deep, masculine voice. “No, Amber, I am Dagger. I’m sorry to do this to you. I take no pleasure in kidnapping the innocent.” Her myrtle eyes narrowed, and she flicked her brown hair in disgust. “Then why did you do it?” “A handful of the innocent must suffer, unfortunately, to save the innocent millions.” “So what? The end justifies the means?” “Precisely,” remarked Dagger. “You and my brother, you’d get along, you know. His experiments are for the greater good, as he puts it. I witnessed one, once. A man was being submerged in Seviper poison with electrodes in his head. No anaesthetic. The screams were… unbearable…” She looked away, tears of anger in her eyes. “One must question which greater good he was aiming for. My guess was a weapon to cause even further suffering.” Dagger’s eyes were filled with a determined disgust. “Well, what’s yours? What good are you aiming for?” “The death of Lord Augury, or, as is common for those close to him, He who is Merely a Rumour. He is a shadowy character who possesses control over at least two Oligarchs: your brother, and Samantha Lincoln, the Ears of the Oligarch. We also have good reason to believe that he controls Evan Emerit, the Voice, and Susan Adams, the Eyes.” Amber scoffed. “So, this is all for some conspiracy theory?” “Sounds crazy, doesn’t it? Here’s the interesting part – every Oligarch that he controls believes that they are the only one which has a relationship with him. The trick is getting the Oligarchs to realise this, to unravel this web of lies themselves. “Herein lies a problem. We cannot simply tell the Oligarchs of this secret. To do so would attract Augury’s attention, and he would intercept any attempt the moment we started. He is psychic, you see.” Amber made a loud, skeptical snort. “You’re insane.” “I assure you, I know perfectly well what I’m doing. In any case, what we must do is cause the Oligarchs to doubt Augury, to question his omnipotence, by kidnapping and murdering their family members. I request the impossible from them: they must reveal Augury’s ‘secrets’. Not only do his puppets not know these secrets, but even if they did know, Augury could kill them the moment they hypothetically make the decision to seek me out.” “Why are you telling me this?” “As a courtesy.” The answer, in reality, was that Lord Augury had formed a weak bond with Amber, by learning of her kidnapping and dispatching his men personally to find her. This, coupled with the transfer of such crucial and secret information would be sensed by Augury’s formidable abilities. Why, then, would Dagger want his nemesis to know that his psychic powers and political nature were not a secret? Lord Augury, despite his intelligence, was ruled by his own psychic energy. As such, he was prone to massive bouts of emotion, and to know that he was discovered would cause anger and fear, disproportionate to that which the situation calls for. And with this incredible emotional swing, his enemy might make a dire mistake. And for someone so powerful, his mistakes had considerably worse consequences than those of a more ordinary man. “So… you’re… going to kill me?” “Yes, Amber. You have half an hour to reflect upon your life. After that, I will send someone in to slit your throat.” He said this so calmly, so naturally. The lack of remorse was cold. Cold and terrifying. “And you think… you’re the good guy in all of this?” “The triumphs of heroes are the only things remembered, no matter how many terrible deeds they stand on.” * “Is it done?” “Yes, master.” The two men sat, each wrapped in the black uniform of the Dagger. “Master Dagger, where do we proceed? Bevan Emerit is very easy to grab…” “No.” “Sir, what aren’t you telling me?” “Obviously something very important. It may very well result in being safe to tell you, but, as for now, I’m not sure. We’re dealing with the most pervasive surveillance line – Augury’s powers – and I can’t take any chances.” “Do we investigate Susan Adams?” Dagger shook his head. “Far too dangerous. She is reclusive and suspicious, even for an Oligarch. We need to drag things into the open more before we can get to her. Samantha Lincoln is our only option right now. This is my plan for tomorrow.” He handed a piece of paper to his subordinate. It was a letter. “To the Ears of the Oligarchy, “Time runs thin. Your husband is dead. Perhaps you didn’t realise the severity of the situation, so allow me to reiterate: you spent twenty years with this man. You loved him. He fathered your children. And now he has met his demise prematurely. “Not to mention, he had similar protection to you. And yet, I broke into your house bloodlessly, your guards completely missing me. True, he did not have Augury watching over him, but ask yourself: how much of your family are you willing to lose? “A suggestion: pay attention to your own life and those around you. It is your job to do this for every Torcran; a select few should pose little difficulty. “By the way, if you haven’t already done so, open the door.” |
*whistles* Niiice. Your battle scenes are getting better and better, and I like your portrayal of Dagger. One thing -
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Bevan is maturing awful fast . . . |
Ooooooo nice XD
I didn't see any errors there thus far. I'm not even sure anymore if we're building up in mystery, or getting answers anymore XD *wonders if his own fic would complete itself* |
Thanks for the review. ^_^
How's this for a more clear sentence: "Immediately afterwards, she felt a tingling in her head. In the space of a minute, Augury probed her mind, every memory in the last five years flashing before her eyes." Maturing? :s That wasn't the intent of this chapter at all. D: Getting to be a better battler, yes. But I didn't think it was too fast. EDIT: Ninja'd. Thanks for the review, Feign. ^^ Could you think of any way I could improve? |
That's a little better. But some more description may well be in order. Tingling is all very well, but what else? Did it hurt? Did she scream in agony and fall to her knees, clutching her head? (Sorry, I'm sadistic) I just feel that this has great potential as a dramatic scene.
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It's not meant to be dramatic. :S The idea is that Augury can very easily access the memories of others without any adverse effects. After all, five years of memories with only a tingling is nothing to scoff at.
Furthermore, Augury has no interest in being sadistic to that character (not your fault, as the reason why this is hasn't been revealed yet), and, as will also be revealed later on, the power of the subtle is far more terrifying than overt pain. |
This is actually an amazing fanfic.This and shattered fight for my favourite pokemon fanfic :)
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Thanks for the compliment, dark_giratina. ^_^
Is there any way you could think of that I could improve in that chapter? |
Chapter Six: Two Penetrating Eyes
Back from my holiday. This is the result of writing ahead. :D
--- --- CHAPTER SIX: TWO PENETRATING EYES “Let’s go, Charlotte,” said Bevan jovially. “I thought you didn’t feel like going.” “Heh – catching a Pokémon – it’s given me a new burst of energy.” “Not so fast. You need to heal the Venonat.” Bevan pulled out a metal rod about two inches long, and the width of a pin. He withdrew an Oran Berry from his bag, and pierced it deeply with the rod. “What… are you doing?” “This is an applier rod – it lets you use items on Pokémon while they’re still in their balls.” “Of all the useless inventions,” Charlotte snorted. “No. Not useless. Pokéballs heal and relax Pokémon while they’re inside. It’s far better for Venonat if it isn’t released from this state only to eat a disgusting medicinal berry. Then, when it comes out, it’ll be more likely to cooperate.” Bevan prodded the top of the Pokéball with the rod, and the instant he did this, the berry materialised into red energy, and was absorbed by the Pokéball. “It was originally designed as a weapon by the Brain’s department,” said Bevan. “The idea being that you could stick this into a gun with a harmful item attached to it, and fire. Trouble was, any conscious Pokémon could reject the item, even while inside a Pokéball. So the project was abandoned.” “You mentioned the Brain,” said Charlotte, beginning to walk. “Who’s that?” The question, while being a simple one, struck Bevan as being oddly insincere. “The Brain is an Oligarch,” said Bevan, catching up. “Do you know about all the Oligarchs?” “Only the ones that do press conferences. I obviously know about the Voice, your father, the Ears, the Nose, and the Hands.” “The other two are the Brain and the Eyes. The Brain basically heads the scientific arm, including the health system and the computer infrastructure-” His explanation was cut off by him being suddenly lifted into the air, upside down by a rope. Although from Charlotte’s perspective, it looked rather comical, from Bevan’s it was painful and slightly humiliating. “A little help?” “Bevan, it’s a simple trap. You need to learn how to escape these things yourself.” “You know, this hardly seems fair,” said Bevan, awkwardly shaking off his bag and gripping it with one hand. As he rummaged around for a knife, he continued, “I’ll set off all the traps, and everyone behind us can just run through.” “Nah, the traps are only this primitive early on. They get mechanical eventually.” said Charlotte as Bevan started sawing the rope. “By the way, make sure you don’t land on your knife or your tailbone when you fall.” “I’ll keep that in mind,” said Bevan, teeth gritted, halfway through the rope. “Seriously, Bevan – I’ve been caught in one of these traps before – you have to breakfall.” “What?” “Breakfall! With your position, you’ll land on your back, so you need to spread the impact over as-” Too late. Bevan fell, desperately twisting onto his side. “A-ow…” “Are you OK?” Charlotte knelt down to examine him. “I don’t think anything’s broken, but, that… hurt…” He awkwardly rose, pulling his bag back onto his back. Resuming walking (with Bevan's eyes studying the ground for traps), Charlotte struck up the conversation once again. “So, tell me more about the Oligarchs.” “Like I was saying, the Brain basically runs things like the health system, arms design, the internet, et cetera. My father didn’t like him much.” “Oh?” “He said that Simon – the Brain – was fanatically obsessed with all kinds of cruel and unusual experiments. He told me once of an experiment, where child twins were snatched from their home and put in separate rooms. One was given anaesthetic and attacked by a Haunter, using Nightmare, to see whether the other would feel pain. After a week of no results, they were both executed. My father… he accused him of being a sadist, a freak.” “That is…” Charlotte’s features contorted in disgust. “Horrible,” agreed Bevan solemnly. “And the Eyes – what about her?” Totally missing the fact that Charlotte seemed to know the Eyes’s gender, he explained her function. “My father… never talked much about her, but I do know that her first name is Susan. Her job is to run all the secret police agencies, including the Cloaks. Apparently she talks to the graduating Cloaks every year. It’s the only thing remotely close to a press conference that she’ll do. “Even for an Oligarch, she’s paranoid. Nobody except her personal guard see her outside of Cloak graduation and the monthly Oligarchy meetings. It was the source of major speculation as to what she was doing for a while – in fact, five years ago, it resulted in this strange rumour.” Charlotte’s voice became a little higher. “Oh?” “Yeah. People in upper government called him, well, He who is Merely a Rumour. I also heard my dad once call him Lord… something or other. Apparently, he was this guy who was controlling all these people high in government, and one of the major suspects was Susan. Needless to say, those who spread this rumour were ruthlessly hunted down and killed.” The conversation was cut short by a beeping noise. “Uh oh – duck!” Two red lights on a small metallic box in the ground lit up, and four bladed discs were shot up into the air right in front of the duo. “Growlithe!” Trainer’s instinct kicking in, Bevan did likewise. “Venonat!” The discs looped in the air, and curved towards Bevan and Charlotte, two meant for each. “Ember!” “Confusion!” Growlithe leapt forward and spat fiery saliva at the discs, melting their electronic tracking systems and sending them flailing off into completely different directions, one getting stuck in a tree, one flailing pathetically to the ground. At the same time, Venonat shuddered, releasing a wave of invisible energy at the two dangerous discs, muddling their tracking systems. In the same way as the other two, they flew off helplessly into other directions. “Nice,” said Charlotte. Bevan had improved quickly. She noted this. “Yeah, I knew about battle strategies and the like, but my first battles were so easy. I felt like I didn't need to use strategies. And then with you, when I needed them... my mind froze up, I guess. Theory and practice are far separated. My grandfather used to say that to my father.” “So, about the Eyes...” “Yeah?” “Do you know anything about her? Her personality?” “Well, like I said – she is paranoid. But apparently in meetings, she would display a kind of detachment. According to my father, she would phase in and out, and when she did pay attention, it would always be to condescend the other Oligarchs, or tear apart their plans. I guess she was intelligent, but – well, I met her once myself.” “And?” “I kind of got the impression like... only her body was in the room. Like when she was talking, it was a voiceover. Not literally... but, it's hard to describe. If you can imagine not living your own life, but observing it as it moves past, occasionally waking up, only to scold those around you. That's what she seemed like to me.” “How do these people get into power?” Charlotte’s voice seemed rueful and dark. “Huh?” “Don't you think it’s odd? Your father took away your mother, the Brain is a sadist, the Eyes is a schizoid, and from what I've seen of the other three - they don't exactly seem like model people to me.” “What do you think is happening?” “I... don’t know. But something has to change. Soon.” She said this with fiery conviction. Bevan was sure that there was something more to this girl, something that she wasn’t telling him. And, worst of all, he was beginning to realise something else. She was dangerous. * “Lord Augury, you wished to see me?” “Susan, yes, please sit down.” The room was dark, as with most meetings with Lord Augury. Susan was wearing a thick black cloak, covering everything except her pale face. Her eyes were cold and grey. “As you will know doubt have concluded on your own, something’s not right with two of your colleagues, the Ears and the Brain. Lincoln’s husband and daughter have both been killed, as has Gordon’s sister.” “This is correct, my Lord.” Susan Adams had her own personal spies on every single Oligarch. She was certainly one of the most powerful and cunning political minds on the Council of Oligarchs; she had been there for the longest. She was sixty, but looked younger, with all kinds of chemicals injected in her to preserve her youth. “I must ask that you withdraw this spy network.” “What? My Lord, this network gives me insight into the affairs of all the Oligarchs. It’s what makes me so much more powerful than the others. I could order any one of them assassinated – and have done so several times before I met you.” “In any case, as you know, I have my own networks. On your computer, you’ll find that you have access to everything you need.” “Are you trying to hide something from me?” “No, but I don’t trust your networks, when dealing with this topic. I have not met these people; I cannot discern psychically who they are and what they’re up to, unless I meet every one. And you know better than to reveal all of your spies, even to me.” As Lord Augury said this, he telepathically induced fear and humility into this otherwise cruel and suspicious woman. “Forgive me, my Lord.” “This Dagger terrorist knows that I’m controlling an Oligarch – he even knows the name Augury. He doesn’t know which one. He’s testing the other ones; seeing if they crack. And, in the process, creates disharmony amongst the Oligarchs. This is where you come in. “I have ordered you to stop assassinations in the past, because it is dangerous. But, I may be forced to execute them myself. I need you to be on the lookout for signs of cracking. I will myself keep an eye open, but I need your help.” “Cracking? Why would they crack?” “Remember last time? People got nervous. People who were suspected of working for me would occasionally pretend to be in on it to protect themselves. Nobody is safe from those higher than them in Torcra. Nobody. The value of people thinking you have a supernatural, all-pervasive friend is incredibly high. So, they, not crack so much as... lie. Either way, it's very damaging.” “My Lord, this Dagger terrorist… he’s like nobody we’ve ever dealt with before. He and his colleagues leave no trace. They can get past my best men. They have something that we don’t. And, dare I say it, something that you don’t.” “Yes, and I don’t know what this is. But whatever they have, I have something better.” The furniture around Susan was lifted, twirled in the air, and thrown back to the ground. In that instant, a surge of rage rushed through Lord Augury. Why must they always question my abilities? “Do not think for a second,” started Augury loudly, “that he is more capable than me. That I can’t stop him.” “My Lord, I don’t think anything so ridiculous,” she replied honestly. “Please, keep your voice down. We don’t need anyone rushing in here.” A moment of silence, and then Augury approached Susan. “One more thing. I want you to appear at the beginning of the Cloak Academy as well as the graduation. The speech is on your desk.” “Why?” “I have a bad feeling about that batch of Cloaks. And by feeling, I mean a wave of psychic energy. There’s someone in there who is not quite right. Someone out of place.” “Do you have any idea what this person is?” “I get the idea that it’s a she.” Susan scowled. She didn’t like other women. She saw them as frail and prone to ridiculous bouts of emotion and affection. “It’s only a vague feeling, so she’s probably not too dangerous. But, if you see anyone who sticks out, who looks suspicious – you know what to do.” “My Lord? Isn’t Evan Emerit’s son in this batch?” “Yes, I believe so.” “Do you think he has anything to do with this feeling?” Augury considered this. “It is… possible. When he gets there, have him interrogated. And whoever’s with him.” “We could intercept him earlier than that.” “You can, but you won’t. I don’t want him harmed, either, without my express consent. Emerit will go off the deep end, and we definitely don’t need to make Dagger’s job any easier.” “Yes, Lord Augury. I’ll personally alert the head of the Academy. Is there anything else?” “No, Susan. You are dismissed.” |
I can't really say much on this chapter, I'm afraid. I didn't see any glaring errors, so that's good. The only thing I noticed was this sentence.
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But still, a good chapter. Either Charlotte is the one pissing around with Augury's psychic waves, or she's a total red herring. Either way, it's interesting. *strokes beard* AH CRAP THE BEARD IS BACK!!!1!!!SIXTY-SEVEN!! RUN LIKE HEEEEEELL! |
Upon reconsideration, it seemed a bit odd to me, too. I've done a complete redo of that answer. ^^
Thanks for the advice. :D |
And this time around, I think you mean
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Yes, you're right. XD; Fixed.
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Nicely moving along I say XD
That rope trap scene reminds me of 'I am Legend' XD |
I actually originally got the idea from that Pokemon episode in Season 1 with all those traps set. But then I thought of 'I Am Legend' when he pulled out the knife to let himself down.
Thanks for the review. ^^ |
SWEET story. I printed it out like a book and read it cause I didn't have time to sit on the computer for more then five minutes(2 weeks ago), but I did read 4, 5, and 6 online.
Again, awesome story. Can't wait to read more. |
Thank you so much for the compliment. :D And for the knowledge that it was, in a way, self-published. ^___^
Was there any aspect you thought I could improve on (at any point)? |
Chapter Seven: Rex
Chapter Seven: Rex
Beep. Beep. Be-Beep. “That has to be the most boring ringtone ever,” said Charlotte casually. The pair were under a tree, the flickers of orange and red from their campfire lighting the crepuscular atmosphere. They had fought mechanical traps all day before finally deciding to rest. Bevan rolled over and picked up his phone. On the screen it said Dad (he had tried to change it to “Evan” in the past, but that was, apparently, quite impossible). He picked it up and walked out of earshot of his companion. “Hi.” “Bevan. How are you doing? Where are you in Route 616?” “I’m alright. I’m up to the traps.” His voice was uncomfortable and shifty. He’d never been all that close with his father, but Charlotte’s words yesterday had made him uneasy. How much of a monster was his father? “The traps? Really?” Evan seemed genuinely impressed. “I must say, that’s quite an achievement. Most people are climbing the mountain at this stage.” “Yeah - I went through the tunnels underneath. Got lucky, I guess.” Bevan didn’t want to reveal that his source of achievement was another person, a trainer no less. His father never approved of him socialising with commoners, and, strangely enough, there was some pride in being praised by his father. A pride that seemed to coexist with the loathing which he felt. “The tunnels.” There was a pause, and Bevan could imagine his father frowning. “You got lucky against some rough odds, there. I guess Larvitar helped you navigate?” “Y-yeah. That’s probably why I got through so quickly.” “Now, Bevan, there’s - uh - intelligence that something isn’t quite right in that group of Cloaks. Have you seen anything weird? Or out of the ordinary?” Bevan glanced over at Charlotte. Was she being watched? “No.” “You don’t sound very confident, Bevan.” Evan's voice was stern and disapproving. “W-well, I haven’t really been on the lookout for anything strange, so I might have missed something.” “I think you should start now, then. Let me tell you something: there have been attacks recently. They were hushed up, and they’ve been perpetrated against the immediate family members of the Oligarchs.” Bevan’s loathing for his father was immediately replaced by fear. “But - I’m your immediate family! Your only immediate family! You - you’ve got to get me out of here!” “That would be very bad press. Instead, I’m sending you a high-ranking Cloak tomorrow to look after you. Since Route 616 is forbidden for the press, we can keep you safe and the public panic-free.” “And when I reach the Academy?” “He will leave, but the Academy is a fortress. You’ll be safe there.” Something struck Bevan. “This is just an excuse to spy on me, isn’t it?” “Bevan, I’m sick of the moody teenager act. It’s old. Besides which, the Cloak is not reporting to me - I don’t even know who he - or she, for that matter - is. Your safety is a vastly more important than your privacy. The entire country got over that phase decades ago.” Bevan simply hung up. There was no arguing with his father. He was single-minded and refused to be contradicted. The difference was that now he could push a button and avoid the lecture. * “Come, Rex - I have an assignment for you.” Rex, like Augury, was covered in a black cloak. He was in his early thirties, had penetrating, dark eyes, and equally dark skin. His head was bald, and an ebony, Mephistophelian beard hung from his chin. Were it not for the insurmountable terror which Augury’s presence brought to the room, his tall figure would dominate it. He was not an Oligarch, but a high ranking Cloak - one of Susan’s deputies, and in a perfect position to spy on her. As Augury's protégé, he had been taught how to use telekinesis, and was the only person alive who knew what Augury looked like without his mask. He knew almost all of Augury’s secrets, including his dominion over multiple Oligarchs. Often, Augury’s servants would have to settle with meeting with Rex rather than Augury, but in these dangerous times, this protocol was increasingly unusual. Rex spoke in a deep voice. “What is it, my Lord?” “The escortation of Bevan Emerit. I suspect you know why. And why he is more important than any of the other potential targets.” “Of course.” “And, see what you can find out from him. Anything suspicious.” “My Lord, I will do my best. But without telepathy...” “I know what you seek, Rex. But I shall not give it to you.” Psychic powers could roughly be divided into two categories: telepathy and telekinesis. The former involved the manipulation of minds, the latter the manipulation of objects. Augury had taught Rex telekinesis, but not telepathy. The first reason for this was paranoia: Augury could simply not risk his apprentice gaining the ability to flicker through his mind and find the secrets that he kept. There was a risk of the student surpassing the teacher. The second reason was that telepathy was mentally debilitating. When Augury had first discovered the Griseous Orb, it unleashed upon him the ability to manipulate things with his mind. Telekinesis had no adverse effects, but telepathy - it tore him. It changed him. This was the reason that Augury had shared with Rex. “I apologise, Lord Augury. And the girl? Shall I be on the lookout for her?” “If, and only if, you can do so not to the detriment of your duty as Bevan’s escort.” “Very well, Lord Augury.” * “Wh-who are you?” Charlotte’s voice was high and slightly upset. “I was planning to ask you the same question,” a deep voice replied. “My name is Rex, and I will be escorting Bevan due to security considerations. And you are?” “Ch-Charlotte. Charlotte Appleby.” “And you just... happen to be sleeping by an Oligarch’s son? I find that a bit suspicious.” “We were just travelling together, sir. It’s relatively common for Route 616.” “True, but I don’t get the impression that you’re an innocent traveller. Appleby... eh? One of the three former trainers recruited to Cloakhood. That puts you down a notch in my book. And then there’s the look of familiarity in your eyes - have you seen me before?” “No, sir. You just remind me of someone I know.” “That twitch in your lip suggests you’re not being honest. And you’re showing anxiety all over.” “You’re... suggesting I’m dangerous, sir. Of course such suggestions make me nervous.” “True, Appleby, but the signs of anxiety started before I opened my mouth.” Charlotte’s heart was racing. This man was not to be messed with. He was dangerously perceptive - not unlike someone else she knew. “As a trainer... it’s kind of instinct... when you see someone strange stand over you when you wake up.” Rex smiled ominously. This was his method. He would exploit all insecurities and involuntary movements in someone in order to open them up. To lay bare all their secrets. “So you are just a friend of Master Emerit? Very well. You can join us.” Charlotte smelled a trap. If she refused, she would cast suspicion upon herself, and she’d be alone, meaning she could be tracked and quietly killed. This was exactly the reason why she chose to stay with Bevan in the first place - so they couldn’t quietly execute her. On the other hand, if she stayed, she could easily slip up in front of this man. Her choices were certain death and near-certain death. She mustered a smile. “Of course, sir. I look forward to it.” “No you don’t. You’re terrified.” “Admittedly so, but I’m terrified of what brought you here. The, ah... security problem. The attacks on Cronine have shaken us all a bit.” “But not you.” Charlotte, who was a reasonably perceptive person, could not see past the bluffing confidence of this man. He was a brilliant liar, his face giving nothing away. “Wh-what?” Bevan was stirring. “Master Emerit. There have been some security concerns, and-” “O-oh yeah,” said Bevan groggily, sitting up. “My dad told me that you’d be coming.” Charlotte shot Bevan a betrayed look. How could you not have told me this? With surprising vigor and speed, he yelled, “VIT6.” Rex's face betrayed, just for a split second, a strange look of both readiness and surprise. Bevan tilted his head back and smiled triumphantly. “You know my father. That’s his personal distress code for his inner sanctum - are you really here to protect me from this Dagger freak? Or are you here to spy on me?” “Do you have something to hide, young man?” “Plenty.” Bevan hated being called a young man. It reinforced his adolescent status, and was something his father would call him when ordering him around. His mother’s title was woman. Charlotte was surprised. He hadn’t ever shown this kind of arrogance before to her. But, then again, she wasn’t a pushy figure of authority to him. She was his friend, or at least, he thought she was. At that moment, she envied Bevan for his ability to speak his mind to all these powerful figures in government, enjoying the shield of his father. “Emerit, I will be following you, whether you like it or not.” As Rex said this, he twisted Bevan’s stomach psychically to induce discomfiture. “Your father has intimated to me that he would prefer you in pain than dead, so this could be quite a damaging journey. He may value your life more than mine, but he doesn’t value your word more. So if you want to make my job hard, I’ll break your legs and tell him you tried to run away.” The voice seemed emotionally distant, but still cruel. Still savouring the joy that schadenfreude brings. Bevan could tell that this was one agent who would be able to bully him. Nodding reluctantly, he realised that what was supposed to be a window of freedom was crushed by the all-pervasive Oligarchy. * Midday. The day had gone by eventfully, with Charlotte and Bevan dodging numerous robotic traps on the long road to the Academy. Rex simply stood back and watched, only once interfering when a stray coal flew at him. It was quite an incredible sight, even for Charlotte: he had whipped out a Gengar from his ball in a rapid circular motion, simply throwing it towards the coal. Without even being commanded to do so, Gengar had used Psychic, shrivelling the dangerous, steaming ball and tossing it aside. Charlotte was unusually quiet, and Bevan was too. The three walked in silence, and eventually, Rex realised he wasn’t going to get any information this way. A rebellious Oligarch brat and a suspicious girl. What are they hiding? “Is it customary for you two to travel in silence? Or is this a new event?” When neither answered, he continued. “Perhaps you didn’t understand. I asked a question, and I expect it to be answered. You both wish to become Cloaks, correct? Insolence isn’t tolerated in your profession of choice.” “You came along, and I decided to shut up,” said Bevan moodily. “Having only you to talk to as a result, Charlotte did the same.” “Stop.” Charlotte froze, but Bevan kept on walking, his face contorted with anger. Rex tilted his head and strode over to Bevan, pulling him with incredible strength against the nearest tree. “I told you to stop. Your father obviously didn’t teach you how to behave, so let me give you a lesson. Gengar.” Instinctively, Bevan pulled out two Pokéballs. “Larvitar!” “You stupid little child. Put that away before Gengar rips it apart.” “Bevan - no...” Charlotte’s voice was weak and helpless. There was no way out of this. He was going to be broken, and she couldn’t help him. “Larvitar, Bite!” “Psychic,” said Rex, annoyed by this feeble attempt at resistance. Larvitar leapt at Gengar, his mouth wide open. Gengar looked amusedly at the tiny dinosaur, allowing it to get closer. Closer, and crash. In an instant, Gengar had flung the Larvitar sideways into the lake, with the ease that one throws a tissue into the rubbish. “Larvitar!” Bevan’s voice was anxious. He attempted to run, but Rex blocked him. “Two choices, Emerit. You take your punishment like a man and Gengar will save your Pokémon, or I’ll catch you as you run and Larvitar will drown.” Bevan had never felt a loathing towards anyone as strong as he felt towards this newcomer. This man was calmly describing a life-and-death situation, which he could easily prevent, but would only do if a minor submits willingly to torture. Was this his father’s way of parenting him? He didn’t have the guts to apply his tough-love philosophy to his own son, so he sends someone else to do it? “Save my Pokémon, you son of a bitch.” For a second, the skewed, terrified, angry voice of this boy reminded Rex of Lord Augury. He nodded to Gengar, who leapt into the lake, grabbed Larvitar, and brought it to shore. “And now, Emerit. For your end of the bargain. Just lie there, and try to remember the pain you’re about to feel next time you want to mouth off to me.” He stood back. Charlotte’s face was a mixture of empathy and disgust. “Gengar, a prisoner grade Dark Pulse.” Gengar spread its arms, releasing a wave of darkness that washed over Bevan. He felt himself being psychologically and physically retched. Charlotte was reminded of a seizure. The agony which he felt was indescribable. The darkness ran through his blood, as hot as fire, as cold as ice, and as terrifying as the memory of his mother being dragged away. And Rex simply stood over him, watching the teenager convulse and suffer, his face as blank and stony as his master’s silver mask, with the exception of a subtle, asymmetric smile. |
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I can't find anything else, really. I almost pulled you up for having Gengar use Psychic on a Dark Pokemon, but then I went ohwait. ^_^; Good chapter, and I'm interested to see where Rex goes from here. I assume he relates to the thread you posted in the Writer's Lounge? |
Indeed he does. ^^ Thanks for the review. :D *goes to fix errors*
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yesterday had made him uneasy.
I’m sending you a high-ranking Cloak tomorrow to look after you tomorrow. <<Perhaps something telling us that Bevan was still asleep, aside from the stirring?>> As Rex said this, he twisted Bevan’s stomach slightly to induce discomfiture. >>> I didn't know Rex was near or had even grabbed Bevan ;) The voice did not seemed emotionally distant, but still cruel She was his friend, or at least, she thought he was. His mother’s title was 'woman'. I'm assuming these mistakes and corrections are correct XD Otherwise very nice chapter. Rex is indeed sadistic XD I could see him breaking off XD |
Wow, quite a few errors in this chapter, relative to the others. *Fixes*
Thanks for the review, Feign. ^^ In response to the non-typo ones: Quote:
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Haha nice catch XD
Anyway, I forgot to mention, what I liked about this chapter too was that, the reader got to "feel" what it was like to be hit by a pokemon move. I mean in the anime, it looks as though they'd scruff it off as nothing (okay well they don't shoot to kill), but still. Nice one! |
Thanks. ^^ I'd actually been wanting to write about Dark Pulse for a while, due to its flavour text: "The user releases a horrible aura imbued with dark thoughts."
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I love that flavor text. i also never get why they call it flavor text *is offtopic*
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Well, In the beginning of the newest I noticed "most boring" which I would say "lamest" And then there's the comma....
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Then, it kinda bothers me with the "realise" thing because you know, I'm american and it's spelled "realize" here. And, yeah... |
On the contrary, 'most boring' works perfectly fine, as the 'most' works to turn the adjective into a superlative. For example, 'big' becomes 'bigger' and then 'biggest'. 'Boring', on the other hand, does not become 'boringer' and 'boringest'. In fact, some smarty-pants decided that 'boring' and words like it would instead turn into 'more boring' and 'most boring'. And I remember getting into an argument with an American about 'realise' vs 'realize'. She was adamant that 'realize' and 'realise' meant two different things, which for the life of me I cannot remember. I held firm though, and use 'realise' to this day, and sorry American readers who don't like it! This was, however, the same person who taught me how to use hyphens and ellipses properly, not to mention opening my eyes to the fact that it's 'Poke Ball' not 'PokeBall'. Teehee.
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Thanks for the review, ∙√Poké. ^_^ With the "realise"/"realize" thing, it's just a matter of dialect, unfortunately. To change it might please one set of readers, but annoy another set, so like most authors, I go with my own dialect.
As for the "most boring" thing, while I agree with Sparkles that it's grammatically correct, I'm open to the idea of changing it because it might sound odd (think of "the boy stared at the blue, big house"). Personally, I didn't think it sounded all that odd - does anyone else have any input on this matter? |
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