The Sevii Islands Saga
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July 9th, 2009 (1:48 PM). Edited July 9th, 2009 by Manaphyman.
A bit different this time, but here I am, with the redone chapter from Serebii.
: Torchic and Flare
They shuffled their feet, the mood destroyed by the bombshell delivered. Mike and John were devastated, a dark red tarnish now marking their grandfather’s legacy. George and Joey, while somewhat upset for their friends, were still awed by the sight of Moltres, the Phoenix, and the revelation of its Redeeming powers.
“If John’s the Redeemed, who is the Saved? Or the Protected?” George asked shyly, breaking the silence as they continued to progress down the barren mountain side.
“Dunno. Could be any one of us, or someone we haven’t met yet. Or it could be a load of ********,” Joey reasoned, a hint of jealousy developing in his tone.
“Its not ********,” John muttered, his head bowed in shame. He didn’t want to be redeemed for anything, he did nothing wrong; but if Aunt Lorelei had said it, he believed it.
“I bet Joey’s the one that needs to be saved, and George is the one that needs to be protected,” Mike said, almost in a joking tone. He lost his footing on some of the crumbly sandstone, but recovered his balance. Fearing another fall, he stared at the ground, wary of the oblong red rocks and jutting pieces of sandstone.
“Why is that Mike, because I’m an ******* and George is a cloyster?” Joey spat, confrontationally, drawing from comments stemming from an old fight.
“Oh ****ing come off it,” John stopped in his tracks, looked up, and yelled at his friends.
“This isn’t turning out to be the journey any of us planned for, but we can’t do anything about it. If we start jumping down each others throats, then what the **** has this been for? What are we doing here?” he barked, his emotions continuing to best his logic.
There was an awkward silence, the cooling afternoon breeze taking the sour mood and seemingly whisking it away. John looked around, calming his mood by looking at the beautiful landscape before him.
They stood poised at the tree line of the volcano; the area in back of them was composed of sun-dried ashy red rocks, a true volcano setting. Before them though, the landscape changed, palm tress dotting the descending slope, swaying with the breeze, providing shelter for Pokémon and shrubs alike. Grass began at the foot of the mountain, although it was in patches and tinted a light brown; the standard for beach grass. From their vantage point, they could see everything: the rolling surf battering the edges of the skinny island, undistinguishable bird Pokémon, flying in the distance, trainers scurrying to set up camp, and of course, the main city a few miles southwest.
What really caught their attention was the scuffle proceeding before them. Locked in battle, a petite feathered chicken Pokémon was attempting to get its footing on its stubby talons; digging its menacing claws into the ground. It reared its large head back, revealing a feather pattern in the shape of a flame perched atop it, and slammed it into the purple and tan mass before it.
The other mass was sent flying into a palm tree, the tree itself splintering and catching fire as a result. The mass turned out to be another fire Pokémon, this one four legged, with a long snout and a round back, from which fire emerged. The Pokémon essentially looked like a bonfire with a head, but John knew it to be a Cyndaquil, and it was preparing to launch a Flamethrower attack. Both Pokémon seemed beat up pretty badly.
“Alright, enough is enough, Mike, we should stop this,” John ordered, irked that he had to exert energy into yet another fight.
“Sure, you take care of Torchic and the damned tree,” Mike ordered, a sense of urgency appearing in his voice as he reached for a Pokéball.
John reached for one as well, calling out Wingull. The seagull Pokémon, relieved to be out of confinement, flew hastily into the air, ascending into a loop and a barrel roll.
<Wohoo! Freedom!> it cawed, before descending to its mission.
“Dowse that fire,” John ordered, pointing to the embers that slowly grew upon the brown back and exposed wood of the tree.
<You could say please…>the bird replied, irritated, a look of disdain appearing in its shinning green eyes.
“Fine, please, and after that, take care of the Torchic,” John said, becoming both aggravated and flustered at the situation. His mood was slowly deteriorating.
Wingull obliged, taking a moment to build up the water within its beak, and then shooting a steady torrent, cooling the tree’s embers until they were a fine ash. A small puff of white steam, a result of the hot and cold reaction, rose up, until it was ceased by the steadily increasing wind.
The bird Pokémon moved towards the Torchic, who was limping towards a shrub for shelter. Its small form couldn’t handle its injuries however, and it fell to its limp knees, its head falling hard into the dirt.
<I think it would be better to throw the Pokéball instead, this one looks like its down for the count,> Wingull joked, stopping short of its dive and hovering over the Pokémon.
“Alright, it’s worth a shot,” John answered, pulling a Pokéball from the left pocket of his bag and tossing it at the creature, aiming carefully to avoid capturing the bush. A fern wouldn’t do too well in battle.
Torchic disappeared into a bright red light, consumed by the Pokéball. The little sphere rolled once on the soft dirt, staining the white half of it with ash and dried mud. It then proceeded to stop, signaling a capture. What bothered John was how abrupt it had stopped; a warning sign that the Pokémon was extremely injured.
He recalled his new Pokémon out of its Pokéball, and into his arms. He examined its light orange underbelly, finding a plethora of black blotches, and an indent dangerously close to where its lungs would be. It probably had a few broken ribs, which, if left unchecked, could puncture a lung and kill it.
“Hey, this Torchic is banged up pretty badly, I think I’m going to go ahead and get it to the Pokémon Center,” John shouted, beginning to make his way back down Kindle Road. He decided to return the Pokémon to its ball, where it would at least be safe, free of all the bouncing and irritation that would ensue if it remained in his arms.
“Fine, just go, we’ll be right behind you!” Joey yelled to the back of John’s head; as he had already taken off down towards the dirt road in the distance.
The others in the group stood dumbfounded, oblivious to the shouts of Mike as he tried to complete his capture.
“I don’t care if that thing was a goddamn Arceus; just throw some freaking rocks on it!” Mike yelled at his Bonsly, throwing his bag on the ground in frustration.
George chuckled at Mike’s stupidity, and turned to Joey, attempting to fill the silence.
“What the hell is with all the starter Pokémon?” he asked awkwardly, observing a now infuriated Mike wrestling with the feisty Cyndaquil.
“Well, its-,” Joey began, but was interrupted by Mike’s insane yelling.
“Muk it bit me! Now you’re in for it!” Mike screamed, Bonsly slowly bringing him the Pokéball that he needed to capture the fire Pokémon.
“-it’s the breeders. They force their Pokémon to mate until they produce an alternate colored Pokémon, or one with a specific move, and then dump the extras in the wild. These islands are so small, that those Pokémon and even Eevee aren’t rare anymore, at least not here,” he continued, gritting his teeth each time Mike yelled. The capture was obviously not going well.
“Now just stay inside,” Mike grunted, now wrestling with a Pokéball, his hands wrapped around its surface, keeping it shut.
“That’s what she said,” Joey laughed.
By now, John had made it about halfway down the island, his lanky legs making good progress along the dirt road. The boy however, was losing stamina and speed, and fast. His Pokémon were not big enough for him to ride or fly upon, and thus, he was on his own. He had to rest, re-gather his strength and breath and trudge on, but he refused. Instead, he continued, slowing his face so that he could look at the map on his Poketch.
His fingers shakily navigated their way to the map upon it, zooming in on the small island containing Kindle Road. Judging by the scale presented, he had about a half a mile until the beach, and a full mile until he reached the Pokémon Center. At best, he could be there in a half hour, which was unacceptable. The warmth and energy given off by the Pokéball was fading fast, meaning Torchic didn’t have too much time.
“Hey! Wait!” a voice called from behind them. John stopped, clutching Torchic’s and Eevee’s Pokeballs. Approaching them was a magnificent white unicorn, its back and tail ablaze with fire. The clamor of its hooves became increasingly audible as it galloped; each step closer brought more of its beauty to light.
Atop the Rapidash was middle aged man with bright, flowing, red hair, dressed in a flamboyant white suit. His white pant legs almost blended in with Rapidash’s pure fur, but there was a slight color contrast. He wore blue tinted sunglasses, which hung off his pointed nose and obscured his eyes. The pair rode up beside him, the elegant horse pausing in front of him.
John didn’t know who he was, in fact, he didn’t care. He was desperate and he needed a miracle, and this Rapidash, in its majesty was his miracle.
“Please sir, you gotta help me. My Torchic is really hurt, and I need a lift to the Pokémon Center,” he begged, panting.
“I’ve been trailing you for the past hour and a half, you looked like you were in trouble,” he said, motioning for him to get on.
“I am John, by the way.” John introduced himself, climbing on to the horse, attempting to get his footing.
“The name is Flare, gym leader of this island,” he introduced himself, grabbing the Pokéball out of John’s hand and attempting to give him a lift. John reached for it, but the fatigue and lack of footing bested him, and he slipped, falling backwards and slamming his head on the ground, knocked unconscious the second time in two days.
A few hours later
He awoke, groggy, his head throbbing and his eyes blurry. The boy lifted his heavy head and looked around the stark white room. It looked like a standard Pokémon Center room, a bland, white walled, three-bedded chamber. There were various paintings plastered about, each depicting a different Pokémon or landscape within the island. There was a purple bureau, which was adorned on top with a medium-sized TV, currently switched off.
“Oh crap. Where am I?” John asked, confused.
“You need your rest son,” a deep voice ordered. “You fell off Rapidash and passed unconscious. I took the liberty of taking you and your Torchic here. They healed your Torchic and gave you this room to stay,” Flare explained, his head appearing above the boy’s bed. His blue tinted sunglasses were no longer obscuring his hazel eyes; they were instead inverted, almost hovering above the man’s fiery red hair. It made for a haunting effect.
John began to come to his senses, finding Eevee and Wingull on his bed relaxing with him. A bandaged Torchic also clutched his thighs, clinging to his trainer. It’s torso and wings were wrapped with linen bandages, its leg neatly set in a small cast.
“Will he be okay?” John asked, a hint of fright appearing in his voice.
“He’ll be in fighting shape in a couple of days, which is good, because I schedule your gym battle this Thursday. That gives you four days to train and recover,” Flare smiled, hoping his surprise would elevate the boy’s mood
“Awesome! Can it be 4 on 4, Mike and I verse you?” John asked excitedly.
“Sure, I was going to tell you that anyway. Two of your Pokémon and two of Mike’s verse four of mine,” he specified, leaving the room.
“He’s awake!” Joey yelled, the boys rushing into the room and huddling around them.
“So Mike caught the Cyndaquil!” Joey laughed, “It was one hell of a battle.”
“Lindsey caught a Ponyta, and we rode home on it, it was so sick dude,” Mike panted out of breath from shouting the information at John.
He closed his eyes, ignoring them and patting Torchic lightly and attempting to fall back asleep. He would deal with it all, including Lindsey, in the morning.
To be continued…..
Sevii Islands Saga
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