Daydream
[b]Boo.[/b]
- 699
- Posts
- 15
- Years
- Age 31
- That thar Kingdom. The United one.
- Seen Jul 2, 2020
The original plan for this fiction was based off the idea, that in the anime, there are alternate gyms that we never get to see. I thought it might be interesting to write a fiction based on a trainer challenging these alternate gyms and that is still one of the main purposes of this fic. As I developed the idea, in my mind, it became a fusion of anime and game canon, (basically because I realised I had the two mixed up in my mind) taking events and timelines from the games but keeping some anime styled concepts (contests, battles, the pokemon league). Which I guess makes this fiction kind of alternate universe?
The story takes place in Johto, about two years after the events of the Generation two games. Shall we begin now?
In times gone by, the town of Firbridge in North West Johto was a small community- supported by a self-sufficient hunting and farming trade. Nestled on a small plateau that cuts into the mountains on North-West fringe of the region, Firbridge is surrounded from its eastern side to its southern side by an evergreen pine forest. Due to its higher altitude and the abundance of wood to use as a building resource, the architecture of the town has taken on a somewhat Bavarian style (sloping roofs for the snow) but with Japanese accents and flairs.
Stretching from the north north-west to the north east of the town are terraces that were cut into the mountain for farming purposes – all but the bottom two have been abandoned in modern times, due to better trade access with more southern areas of Johto (this access comes from the main road branching out from the eastern side of town and curving southwards). The upper terraces have been more recently converted, within that past fifty years or so, into wildlife reserves for the rarer mountain-adapted pokemon of the region.
The lowest of these reserves was home to a small, manmade lake and a young plantation of pine trees, interspersed with small, hardy Yache berry trees to provide sustenance for the herbivorous denizens of the surrounding habitat. The ground, where not carpeted by pine needles, was covered by a glade of soft, yet resilient, grass.
And standing out from the rest of the trees was one pine. It was significantly closer to the lake and taller than the other trees were. And in the gathering dusk, resting underneath this tree, was a girl of 16 years of age.
The girl was busy readjusting a woollen beanie hat, which had horizontal stripes of purple and green in varying shades, and from which her waist-length blue-grey hair fell – the tips just off the ground on which she sat. She pulled closed the navy-blue wool cardigan, which was worn atop a plain purple T-shirt, as the cold began to draw in and tucked her baggy jeans into the pair of dirt-flecked beige hiking boots that adorned her feet. Function over finesse, was what she said to others – though personally she was just fond the 'earthy' style.
She knew she would have to leave soon, before it got totally dark, but she dared not disturb the small herd of stantler that drank from the lake in front of where she sat. The stantler of these particular mountains were quite suitably adapted to the harsher climes and environment – they were smaller with more compact antlers, to easier navigate through the thick forests and with thicker coats all year round to compensate for the low temperatures of the high altitudes. Their coats had also taken on a greenish cast for camouflage in the evergreen woods.
One stantler, the girl noticed, had wandered away from the group to casually inspect a growth of moss on a rock lodged in the lake's banks. It was fairly young, an adolescent the girl presumed, being smaller with antlers that were only grown roughly two and half inches from its head. The girl also presumed that it was orphaned, as none the rest of the herd were taking any especial notice of its whereabouts.
The girl continued to observe the cervine pokemon until they were suddenly startled and bolted off through the trees and onto the mountainside. The young female was confused until she heard a low, feral growl.
Now, most people assume mightyena to be a native species of the Hoenn region – but this is not necessarily true. A rare and large all-grey variety can be found in the mountains of Johto. And this is exactly the pokemon that had just leapt from the trees and held a fear-paralysed young stantler in its power.
An overwhelming instinct of protection reacted before the girl knew what she was doing. She fished for the pokeball in her pocket and tossed it into the air. The gleam of red light faded and the area was lit with crackling embers of a fire.
Only the most strong and sturdy rapidash and ponyta have been bred in Firbridge Town for the past generations. Not only are they useful for transporting produce and material up and down the mountainside, but their fire can act as a beacon for hunters or tradesmen that have found themselves lost. And they of course serve as powerful protectors – when well trained.
"Attack! The mightyena!" Came the girl's commanding shout.
The rapidash charged around the edge of the lake – showing no fear of the water – the mightyena turned to the fiery equine with another low pitched growl. But it was abruptly cut off with a torrent of flame, and the growl became a whine. The wolfen creature retorted with an angry Roar that caused the other two pokemon at the lakeside to flinch. But the beast was an intelligent one – and ran off into the trees, presumably in search of easier prey.
The girl was bemused at first as to why the young stantler hadn't run off when its predator had been distracted – but then she noticed the odd angle at which it held its left foreleg and the now unmistakeable drip of blood from it's right side. She moved cautiously towards the creature, it made a feeble attempt to move but then stopped and bleated in a distressed manner.
It was clearly injured. If she left it, it would no doubt become easy prey again. But isn't that the way of nature? Haven't I interfered enough already? She reasoned these thoughts with herself but then the young stantler bleated again, this time in a forlorn manner. And then it looked at her with watery eyes.
That decided it.
"CLARA!"
The girl sat bolt upright in her bed. I've overslept! That was her first thought. She began to frantically get dressed, pulling on the first clothes that were available to her – a pair of combats, an oversized white t-shirt… Wait.
She stopped herself, It's a Sunday. I don't work on a Sunday. Confused, she made her way downstairs. The house was full of the usual Sunday sounds; cartoons blaring on the television, Anna (Clara's younger sister) laughing and causing Mara to yap and bark from teasing and play and –
"CLARA! NOW!"
Father… And he sounds angry. Clara made her way into the kitchen. Everything in here looked ordinary; clean and organised, the pinewood table in the centre set for breakfast, pans set on the stove ready for cooking… Her angry-looking father standing in his work clothes at the back door.
He directed his piercing glare straight at her eyes forcing Clara to avert her gaze to the floor. "Two things. Explanations. Number one, why is there a stantler in my stables? And number two, why is there blood matted into Maya's coat?"
"H-he was attacked. He would have died," She met her father's gaze. "I couldn't leave him Dad. And it's not like I would even carry a pokeball unless it was Maya's. So I used her to… Carry him down the mountain."
Her father was silent and simply kept his gaze directed at her. Clara sensed this wasn't enough of an explanation and so continued, "And I thought… I mean, decided that I could maybe… Nurse him back to health and then," she said the rest in a very small voice and with her gaze directed at the floor once more, "start a pokemon journey."
Her father raised an eyebrow and began to say something, then sighed. "We'll talk about this over breakfast. Go and clean up Maya. And… That stantler's gonna need some water. You'll have to see if it'll eat some of the hay too."
Peter sighed. His daughter wasn't seeing sense. "Clara. You're sixteen. Most trainers start their journey at ten or eleven. Even twelve or thirteen I could understand. But I'd thought you'd settled. I thought you were happy now. Most have chosen their path at sixteen. From around here at least."
"He started at fifteen, and-" Clara was abruptly cut off.
"He. He was some 'puppy-love' crush that you still haven't gotten over!"
Clara blushed profusely at this. "You don't understand what it's like… To love someone. And then be told it's not love because you're too young! And that's beside the point. I could've gone with him... But I didn't! Because of…" Clara looked at the table, and stabbed a fork at her eggs, feeling suddenly guilty.
Because you were looking after your ill sister, Peter finished, I know, Clara, more than I think you realise.
"Ooh! I got a free pokeball seal with my cereal!"
Both father and daughter shot their glances towards the youngest member of the family.
She raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, I'll just sit here silently like a good little nine year old, while you two trade daggers over the ketchup bottle."
The three all exchanged glances before simultaneous laughter broke out.
Peter recovered first, "Sorry Anna, me and your sister will be civil… For now, at least. Say, did you tell Clara that you got full marks…"
Critique is not only welcome, it's actively encouraged.Though if it's just a quick post to tell my why you did/didn't like it that's cool too. Thanks for reading!
The story takes place in Johto, about two years after the events of the Generation two games. Shall we begin now?
---
Chapter One
Chapter One
In times gone by, the town of Firbridge in North West Johto was a small community- supported by a self-sufficient hunting and farming trade. Nestled on a small plateau that cuts into the mountains on North-West fringe of the region, Firbridge is surrounded from its eastern side to its southern side by an evergreen pine forest. Due to its higher altitude and the abundance of wood to use as a building resource, the architecture of the town has taken on a somewhat Bavarian style (sloping roofs for the snow) but with Japanese accents and flairs.
Stretching from the north north-west to the north east of the town are terraces that were cut into the mountain for farming purposes – all but the bottom two have been abandoned in modern times, due to better trade access with more southern areas of Johto (this access comes from the main road branching out from the eastern side of town and curving southwards). The upper terraces have been more recently converted, within that past fifty years or so, into wildlife reserves for the rarer mountain-adapted pokemon of the region.
The lowest of these reserves was home to a small, manmade lake and a young plantation of pine trees, interspersed with small, hardy Yache berry trees to provide sustenance for the herbivorous denizens of the surrounding habitat. The ground, where not carpeted by pine needles, was covered by a glade of soft, yet resilient, grass.
And standing out from the rest of the trees was one pine. It was significantly closer to the lake and taller than the other trees were. And in the gathering dusk, resting underneath this tree, was a girl of 16 years of age.
The girl was busy readjusting a woollen beanie hat, which had horizontal stripes of purple and green in varying shades, and from which her waist-length blue-grey hair fell – the tips just off the ground on which she sat. She pulled closed the navy-blue wool cardigan, which was worn atop a plain purple T-shirt, as the cold began to draw in and tucked her baggy jeans into the pair of dirt-flecked beige hiking boots that adorned her feet. Function over finesse, was what she said to others – though personally she was just fond the 'earthy' style.
She knew she would have to leave soon, before it got totally dark, but she dared not disturb the small herd of stantler that drank from the lake in front of where she sat. The stantler of these particular mountains were quite suitably adapted to the harsher climes and environment – they were smaller with more compact antlers, to easier navigate through the thick forests and with thicker coats all year round to compensate for the low temperatures of the high altitudes. Their coats had also taken on a greenish cast for camouflage in the evergreen woods.
One stantler, the girl noticed, had wandered away from the group to casually inspect a growth of moss on a rock lodged in the lake's banks. It was fairly young, an adolescent the girl presumed, being smaller with antlers that were only grown roughly two and half inches from its head. The girl also presumed that it was orphaned, as none the rest of the herd were taking any especial notice of its whereabouts.
The girl continued to observe the cervine pokemon until they were suddenly startled and bolted off through the trees and onto the mountainside. The young female was confused until she heard a low, feral growl.
Now, most people assume mightyena to be a native species of the Hoenn region – but this is not necessarily true. A rare and large all-grey variety can be found in the mountains of Johto. And this is exactly the pokemon that had just leapt from the trees and held a fear-paralysed young stantler in its power.
An overwhelming instinct of protection reacted before the girl knew what she was doing. She fished for the pokeball in her pocket and tossed it into the air. The gleam of red light faded and the area was lit with crackling embers of a fire.
Only the most strong and sturdy rapidash and ponyta have been bred in Firbridge Town for the past generations. Not only are they useful for transporting produce and material up and down the mountainside, but their fire can act as a beacon for hunters or tradesmen that have found themselves lost. And they of course serve as powerful protectors – when well trained.
"Attack! The mightyena!" Came the girl's commanding shout.
The rapidash charged around the edge of the lake – showing no fear of the water – the mightyena turned to the fiery equine with another low pitched growl. But it was abruptly cut off with a torrent of flame, and the growl became a whine. The wolfen creature retorted with an angry Roar that caused the other two pokemon at the lakeside to flinch. But the beast was an intelligent one – and ran off into the trees, presumably in search of easier prey.
The girl was bemused at first as to why the young stantler hadn't run off when its predator had been distracted – but then she noticed the odd angle at which it held its left foreleg and the now unmistakeable drip of blood from it's right side. She moved cautiously towards the creature, it made a feeble attempt to move but then stopped and bleated in a distressed manner.
It was clearly injured. If she left it, it would no doubt become easy prey again. But isn't that the way of nature? Haven't I interfered enough already? She reasoned these thoughts with herself but then the young stantler bleated again, this time in a forlorn manner. And then it looked at her with watery eyes.
That decided it.
***
"CLARA!"
The girl sat bolt upright in her bed. I've overslept! That was her first thought. She began to frantically get dressed, pulling on the first clothes that were available to her – a pair of combats, an oversized white t-shirt… Wait.
She stopped herself, It's a Sunday. I don't work on a Sunday. Confused, she made her way downstairs. The house was full of the usual Sunday sounds; cartoons blaring on the television, Anna (Clara's younger sister) laughing and causing Mara to yap and bark from teasing and play and –
"CLARA! NOW!"
Father… And he sounds angry. Clara made her way into the kitchen. Everything in here looked ordinary; clean and organised, the pinewood table in the centre set for breakfast, pans set on the stove ready for cooking… Her angry-looking father standing in his work clothes at the back door.
He directed his piercing glare straight at her eyes forcing Clara to avert her gaze to the floor. "Two things. Explanations. Number one, why is there a stantler in my stables? And number two, why is there blood matted into Maya's coat?"
"H-he was attacked. He would have died," She met her father's gaze. "I couldn't leave him Dad. And it's not like I would even carry a pokeball unless it was Maya's. So I used her to… Carry him down the mountain."
Her father was silent and simply kept his gaze directed at her. Clara sensed this wasn't enough of an explanation and so continued, "And I thought… I mean, decided that I could maybe… Nurse him back to health and then," she said the rest in a very small voice and with her gaze directed at the floor once more, "start a pokemon journey."
Her father raised an eyebrow and began to say something, then sighed. "We'll talk about this over breakfast. Go and clean up Maya. And… That stantler's gonna need some water. You'll have to see if it'll eat some of the hay too."
***
Peter sighed. His daughter wasn't seeing sense. "Clara. You're sixteen. Most trainers start their journey at ten or eleven. Even twelve or thirteen I could understand. But I'd thought you'd settled. I thought you were happy now. Most have chosen their path at sixteen. From around here at least."
"He started at fifteen, and-" Clara was abruptly cut off.
"He. He was some 'puppy-love' crush that you still haven't gotten over!"
Clara blushed profusely at this. "You don't understand what it's like… To love someone. And then be told it's not love because you're too young! And that's beside the point. I could've gone with him... But I didn't! Because of…" Clara looked at the table, and stabbed a fork at her eggs, feeling suddenly guilty.
Because you were looking after your ill sister, Peter finished, I know, Clara, more than I think you realise.
"Ooh! I got a free pokeball seal with my cereal!"
Both father and daughter shot their glances towards the youngest member of the family.
She raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, I'll just sit here silently like a good little nine year old, while you two trade daggers over the ketchup bottle."
The three all exchanged glances before simultaneous laughter broke out.
Peter recovered first, "Sorry Anna, me and your sister will be civil… For now, at least. Say, did you tell Clara that you got full marks…"
---
Critique is not only welcome, it's actively encouraged.Though if it's just a quick post to tell my why you did/didn't like it that's cool too. Thanks for reading!
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