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Old February 28th, 2018 (1:09 PM). Edited March 31st, 2018 by Debora Baines.
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Debora Baines Debora Baines is offline
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    Chapter one: of what happened to the roving Mightyena before being baptized as such.

    In an eld groundsel in Wymme, a small village on the shores of Dagáa, a town born from the ancient divisions of Arcángel in the Anglo-Saxon uprising, in which there are now three minority counties. There was not long after the fierce civil confrontations when, in a filthy and squalid tavern located along a road near the port, eleven Poochyenas naked on the rag and without a loaf of bread under their arms gave birth, laid together with their emaciated mother in the basement of the Póg Mo Thóin Inn tavern, which belonged to a nice landowner with a robust plan and a roisterer gesture that was close to sixty years old. He was not a kind of hospitable pleasant, but a pokémon breeding enthusiast, and his affinity and taste was so much that wild pokémon that he saw, pokémon that he wanted for his hacienda, and there were plenty of opportunities in which, blinded by the chance of acquiring another creature, he won a violent rebuke from his true owner.

    After a little more than three days, of the eleven initial puppies there were eight left, who two of them died barely a day after being born because of the abrupt attentions of their first-time mother, another one of them, the smallest of the recent herd, succumbed soon due to its early life failures.

    You must know, then, that of the mentioned puppies there was one in particular that, unlike his nescient and drowsy brothers, this was a true troublemaker. He spent the mostly hours of the day bobbing and shaking all over the tavern growling and screaming frustrated barks, and such was his joviality and restlessness, that on the second day since his birth he had already learned to walk like a young gentleman, displaying his charm and sympathy.

    On the fourth day he was already a slob, he kept hanging around the winery, smelling each one of the many schnapps and spirits of the place, and when he was not there, he spent the day in the tavern, giving exaggerated and ill-fated jumps and endless pirouettes that ended up exhausting him and turning him from the clumsiness, all these and other monads to attract the attention of the clients, who in a few days had taken him a great affection.

    On the seventh day he was already a great dancer, he used to climb on the narrow varnished mahogany counter to perform his tricks. He liked too much for seven drunken nights, his joy and laughter got him the best dance steps, which illustrated them in angry capers, although he was better off with the lark in the morning, which danced doing awkward and frantic pirouettes along the board.

    On the fifteenth day he already spoke the Spanish and the French, wandered here and there along the spacious tavern, wiggling with spark and grace repeating with fervor: the reason of the unreason with which my reason is afflicted so weakens my reason that with reason I murmur at your beauty.

    He had too much fun barking at the ponyta and rapidash of the barn, it was one of his favorite devilries, rushing to hit them with nibbles in their tarsus and to tear off the hairs from their tails, and to raise a paw clinging to their hooves, so that they turned angry to shout to him, to which the poochyena fled in terror, to after a few seconds return with the same anger and energy to annoy them again. The laborers of the hacienda came to think that all the verve and liveliness that their faint-hearted brothers did not possess came to him, there were opportunities in which it was necessary to provide somnolent powder so that it would calm down; The priest of the people also begged that he would soon depart, the devil can incarnate in many ways.

    He was thus spending his days in the tavern, and being of mischief in mischief, and devilry in devilry, on the thirty-second day he was already a handsome and comely Mightyena, with his back crowded with an overflowing and rugged fur, dyed in a deep black tar that in such creatures are painted. He would then appear at the small balcony in the attic of the tavern, barely fenced with creosote bars, where he slept during the warm and short nights of July; that balcony (approximately six feet long) pointed towards the rocky road wide enough to attend the luxurious ebony floats that brought the ships from the capitol, since then it was very common to hear the whip hit the thin loins of the rapidash, another pokémon raging at these, and a odd laugh or reverence of a passerby. Soon, he spotted standing on the curb of the sidewalk, a young boy waving in direction to the tavern's portico, so that a flock of pidgey fled frightened from the windows of the room.

    "Erin!" That's what the landowner was called "the chimchar you sold me is a scoundrel hooligan! If only you could see him! He still has not helped me in the farm! What do I say! He has not helped me in any way! If you only knew! All he did until now was burn the hay and scare the cattle! God bless me! Do you know how many rows of potatoes he had incinerated!? Like nine!"

    "Start talking good about the monkey!" replied the aforementioned Erin, while he attended his tavern as usual.

    "Why should I do that!" replied the angered young man.

    "So you can sell it to some cretin, pal!"

    "Damn you and all your foundations!"

    Hello everyone and thanks for reading, I am not a native speaker, so I will be very grateful of being told if it is well translated.

    Lots of love.
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    Old March 8th, 2018 (4:54 PM).
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    Debora Baines Debora Baines is offline
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      Chapter two: wherein is continued with the funny episodes of the roving Mightyena in the hacienda.

      The native tavern of Mighyena was on the third and last floor of an old building on the banks of Dagáa. Some balconies led to the courtyard completely intricated by ropes that, starting from the porter's gate, were going to shake the clappers of about ten bells, hanging on the railing of the different floors and ready to shout to call the waitress or the landowner.

      The little terrace, on the other hand, was sandwiched between the outer wall of the canteen and the wall of a taller house, completely blind and black in the past, but then interrupted by a balcony in which an auld and solemn clergyman used to lean, who, nevertheless, in spite of his florid speeches, of his robe crammed with folds, of the excessive use of the toga and of his index finger pointing point-blank at the adversary, he had not yet managed to be named a priest.

      While, then, the beeps and obeisances of a regular day in the Erin's tavern could be heard from the skylights of the terrace, who did not seem to be delighted with anything more than usual; there was Barney MacGee from the banks of the Shannyn river with Hogan from county Tyrone, there was Owen MacHugh, who returned exhausted and stiff from work and a man from Colonia called Malón, there was Riodan O 'Toole who had as a general rule to get drunk before five o'clock and fight with Ryan from Gáliba, then was Patricio de Hanné who, with great grace and excess, used to play the harmonica and the horn during the sunset around the seats of the board; They were, then, the countrymen who frequented the tavern.

      Soon they began to distribute gin and poteen among those present; and from the stage, the ladies lined up together to waltz and stomp over the floor. And finally, blinded by the damaged luminaries and the smoke of the pipes, the pup Mightyena appeared from the cellar of the subsoil erring to the very death in its pirouettes; then, such a mischief and playful liepard throwing runes on his prey, he pushed one of his jaded brothers with felony down the marble staircase.

      Well, that misdeed was only with a puerile pretext; the one he attacked was the only female cub in the pack. It is, therefore, to know that for that reason the landowner's daughter took her a great affection; this put the rogue Mighyena of jealousy, so he did not waste any opportunity to annoy her and emphasize his anger. Then, the cub came to be called Barbara —although she had nothing of that— just as her owner was called.

      Despite the angry reprimands from the young woman, who, understood by the pup, could have put an abrupt end to his innocence, it remained with the most candid and sweet expression that can be assumed. In fact, the pup started pulling the tail of her graceful dress and to chase his own tail rolling around the wood while she looked sincerely wrathful, spreading of friendly juvenile wrinkles the outline of his eyes and nose. The youngling girl immediately released her poochyena and, rolling on the floor, she grabbed the ankles of her father, who soon appeared when he heard such an uproar; He seemed surprised, asking with his eyes the cause of that outburst. With great difficulty, the old Erin managed to tear her from his hands and chin, stuck to the back, of that madding fifteen-year-old girl.

      The landowner was impressed by such an impetuous scene and betook oneself to see his confessor on the small terrace of the building. After telling him what happened, he beseeched with delirium:

      "Reverend Byrne, would not it be better if I took a boy for the work and fire the girl away?"

      The auld sanctimonious man tapped twice his flask with the tips of his fingers and peered out with his bad-tempered face.

      "If your creature has bad intentions, you will always have the chance to malefic your neighbors!" the monsignor Byrne did not want to admit that the Mightyena was completely innocent.

      "And could not I recommend my girl that...?"

      "That?" said the priest irritated.

      "That she would behave more compassionately with him!"

      The cleric was convinced to harbor not entirely naive feelings to the Mighyena; in fact, he was a dark-type pokémon, but, unfortunately, when he let itself be carried away by anger, he could not resist the pleasant sensation that the emptiness opened under the feet gives, and that inexorably attracts him.

      "You must beg Arceus" He told the landowner ", to take him soon".

      The auld bartender almost fainted with fear, and the wooden painted Lugia, on whose base he had supported his head, began to be startled because of his sobs.

      "Death" Continued the priest "when it surprises us in the flower of youth, is a gift from heaven. Because it is very likely, Erin, that when you least realize, the pup will escape such booty from his predator to seek your death and that of your relatives" He added raising his voice "it is but the nature of the dark-type Pokémon, to act and curse their lands in the name of perverse gift".

      "In what way do you think" He said tiredly "that my puppy could be changed by Arceus?"

      The monsignor did not answer, and he walked beside him listening to the sound of his step with the outburst of who is completely defeated. Already next to the church's gateway, the priest raised the hand that still dripped of holy water, and murmured:

      "They could also lose their sight!"

      If the church had not overflowed with gold and yellow lights, the poor man's face would have touched the priest because of his extreme pallor.
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      Old March 24th, 2018 (10:19 AM). Edited March 24th, 2018 by Venia Silente.
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      Venia Silente Venia Silente is offline
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      Okay I should have spoke sooner because I really liked seeing this story. So, first, apologies for that.

      I want to start by saying that I love seeing a story featuring Poochyena and Mightyena as they are vastly underrepresented in the fanfic world for such Pokémon that look adorable and badass enough that I (at least) would expect they had gotten more attention. So congrats and a thank you for that!

      The story reads a bit odd with the grammar and the way sentences are built inside sentences, such as in the very beginning:
      Not long after the fierce civil confrontations, in a filthy and squalid tavern located along a road in the direction of the port, gave birth eleven Poochyenas naked on the rag and without a loaf of bread under their arms, with their emaciated mother in the basement of the Póg Mo Thóin Inn tavern, belonging to a nice landowner with a robust plan and a roisterer gesture that was close to sixty years old;
      Like here, where there are actually two sentences instead of one (I've taken the time to mark the separation), these things could use a bit of reordering via the semicolons or periods like the one seen at the end. It is recurrent enough and you do mention you are not a native Speaker that I felt it was worth the mention.

      (For the record, I am not a native Speaker either, so maybe another reviewer can offer better advice)

      You also get extra kudos for teaching your Pokémon Glorioso Español! (Spanish). A shame some of their siblings died too young to enjoy the good things of life, but I hope your Roving Mightyena survivor can make up for it. Charming, dancer, roving, energetic Mightyena in an hacienda, what am I thinking but the Pokémon version of Antonio Banderas. :p

      Speaking of, what did he do, or eat, to evolve at a month old? Call me really interested, though at the same time it does suck a bit that we miss out on lots of Poochyena fun, they are so cute!

      Well, I am wishing luck to you with this story. I want to see more of such a character!
      Venia Silente' - Consulting Worldbuilder
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      Old March 30th, 2018 (6:38 PM).
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      Debora Baines Debora Baines is offline
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        Hey Vena Silente! Thank you for taking a little of your time on reviewing this. I really appreaciate those advices, the translation turns hard sometimes and that tips really help me to do a better job ;-).
        I'm glad that the story was of your liking. I love Poochyena and Mightyena too, they're such an adorable and amusing creatures.

        Chapter three plus sonnet.
        To the Roving Mightyena.

        In slashing, pouncing, hewing, bark and deed,
        I was the foremost wanderer pokémon,
        Stout, bold, expert, as e’er the world did see;
        Thousands from the oppressor’s wrong I freed;
        Great were my feats, eternal fame their meed;
        In dancing I proved my charm and sympathy;
        The hugest Gyarados was a Magikarp for me;
        Ever to errant’s laws gave I good heed.
        Nor can I be thy peer; for peerlessness
        Is to thy prowess due and great renown,
        Although I lost, as well as thou, my wit;
        Yet- though above yon horned moon enthroned
        My fortune seems to sit- great Mightyena, still
        Envy of thy achievements fills my soul.

        Chapter three: which deals with the fantastic and unimaginable feat that the roving Mightyena did in his land.

        At this point the Mightyena came in sight of around fifteen honeysuckles that were in the hacienda. He thus began barking out furiously to one in particular which was being thoughtlesstly stirred. In short, then, he came to shake the green grass to see if he discovered something and so profess the hunt, because he had very adequate the exercise and capture, and he was not a prim puppy or as jaded as his brothers were.

        While this was going on there stepped out from the honeysuckle a rude and mountain-raised Purrloin, which as soon as she saw the pup, she began to run so brisky that she hardly seemed to tread the earth. The little vermin began to make fun of the awkwardness of the Mightyena by shaking its long and elegant tail in a randy gesture; the irrepressible anger and the unpromising looks of our puppy only increased the Purrloin's laughter, and that increased his irritation. And indeed, the brave puppy lunged over his prey clinging to her tight figure. When the Mightyena arrived at the Purrloin, they both began slashing and hewing all around, dodging some and misleading others, thus forming a picturesque scene worthy of the most laughable and dantesque portrait.

        Then, ended their puerile combat, that star-crossed booty ended up agitated and without spark. She continued with her sackiness and boorishness accentuating her whims in the wiggle of her hips, and who did nothing but laugh and chatter like a harpy devising its next mischief. She then began to step out towards the tavern, and with this the Purrloin lightened up delivering the show of her speed while the puppy did not give much purpose to pursue her. Then, they both hurried along the intricate parts of the hacienda which led directly to the stables, and although there were in a short distance away from the exit the Rapidash mounted out so stately, who wanted to stop them deprecating blows and lashes; but when they saw that they were late, and that they hurried to cross the porch, they soon surrendered.

        When the young Mightyena arrived at the Purrloin, he had already broken into the tavern, and they continued in their voices and in their blunders, slashing and scratching all over, being as awake as if they had never slept. There was also a chain of scandalous stumbles and setbacks that shook the mesons and bottles, the reason of the indomitable combat between them. Soon the clients fled from the round in the face of such manifesto, and since the Purrloin had a bad reputation in terms of the legends and the other palaverings of the neighbors (even in the remote epochs of Mismagius trials, those creatures were not half as feared as these little and elusive thieves).

        You must know, then, that this provoked funny scandals included by the crash of the bottles when hitting the floor and the wine spilled on the board, and later of the refined salt cellars.

        From the next day the landowner began to cross himself at every moment, to hide figures of saints under the pillow, and to fall on his knees every time the shadow of the word death passed through his mind. It was enough with the discourteous alarm that the clergyman made him know and which he revoked whenever he got rid of dark thoughts, combining the malevolence against the priests with a sanctimoniousness that touched the chasm.

        He believed more things than the dogma of the church imposed, but he did not want to believe in the church. He was at the same time a rebel and a poor fanatic, a very natural state in which he has been involved, with no opportunity to leave, in fear and in anger. His room never saw the window open since then and the bad odors stagnated there with all comfort until they were cleaned or dulcified by themselves with the ferments of their own putrefaction. The auld man covered himself with that hard, cold fiber that envelops the legs of the torrids Torchic. Of his eyes, one always remained closed as if the eyelid had been stuck to him, the other one cast a watery and uncertain look like the lightning of a port hit by the rain.

        He was always silent and did not bother anyone; but through his brain, especially at night, furious thoughts, orders, shouts, Hail Marys and bursts of weeping passed by.

        Bárbara was very attracted to her despised father who looked like a big rag toy, and so that her mother would not hear her, because she had forbidden her to approach him, she went barefoot up the attic stairs, and clung her face in the door's fissure, she remained for a long time devouring with his roguish eyes to that immobile auld man. The judgment of the poor man came in his boycott when his daughter ventured into the room wearing round, elegant glasses of shining silver.

        "You lose your sight!" the good senior shouted.

        Bárbara responded with her most jovial smile and explained that the glasses were not graduated, and that she only wore them on her nose to assume a respectable air.

        Having seen the young rover the fierceness of his rival throwing runes on herself, it seemed that there was no reason for meritorious truce; the Mightyena did not revoke his purpose. A compromise was reached, the baron would restrain during the rest of the day the torturing desire to lash the skin of his spirit and leave the boring hacienda, which, while enduring the shrillness of the bodyworks and the laughter of the laborers, was scandalized by a harmonic roll. But of such noble and tragi-comic adventures with which he fantasized, without assimilating himself by the mills of common sense that dared to impose themselves on his praiseworthy objectives, since that was the strength of them.

        Once he had reached his field, he did not want to wait any longer to refer to all the pokémon of the barn about his feat to fulfill, so the puppy went to sneak into the stables where the creatures prepared to rest for the purpose of expanding the rumor. And so with those pleasant thoughts, he came to give the most strange speech that ever mad pokémon in the world never gave: and how they had been surprised to hear at his foolishness!, and more when they noticed the excitement and nonsense with which he was referred to them! That beyond being a mere heroic as the puppy painted it, it was an act of gallantry that none has dared to even think. Running away from the auld and solemn Erin? What a merit to brag!

        For the next three hours there was a comical hodgepodge of Pokémon wandering from place to place —from the filthy pigsties of the Tepig to the pens of the Torchic— in pursuit of a fruitful confabulation; they also agreed to remain slumbered when the squire would settle in the mews to fill the stables with water as usual.

        After these and other absurdities, he did not care to put off any longer the execution of his design. So, without anybody seeing him, that same night he sallied by climbing the back fence of the hacienda. And with this, he walked so slowly and unconcerned that he no longer cared to be found; and as our adventurous novice had never noticed the wonders of nature beyond his twisted fantasy, when he saw the fine dingles, the paradisiacal landscapes, the nascent villages, the lakes and the tides, the wonderful waves and the beautiful Primarinas, he pictured it to himself as the most magnificent and scintillating star that led him to the alcazar of his redemption. He hurried to run there, while imagining the thousand and one adventures that would befall him and exercise in everything that he had fantasized about, but that ended up being a perfidy, because in his twisted fortune he started with his left paw, and in his Irish offspring only came to find a two-leaf clover, for it was too late for conjecture when he saw a ravine out in the open, and that in the drag on the rocky surface he got small peeled on his back and his inventory of provisions ended up withered and crushed.

        Arrived another morning in the vicinity of the hacienda, open the shutter and put one foot in the stirrup, the auld Erin stopped a moment and asked the laborer.

        "How has it been?"

        "They're still resting, lord. But I have not been able to find the rascal Mightyena; I'm worried that he will make mischief in the distemper"

        It was there when the landowner fell into a deeper and deeper ire as he warned of the mess in which his estate was being trampled, the bare porches of the herds and the copious traces of mud scattered on the ground were only the appendages of things; but that anger turned into an unfathomable dread when he discovered the terrible germ that outcrop such an imbroglio. He contemplated with dementia the red bandolier who once knew how to dress his Mightyena lying inert on a wicker chest of drawers, and since the auld man has some optimism, for a moment he crossed his mind that this was going to be the last time he felt so impetuous feeling of shock.
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