Forest Grovyle
Resident Reptilian Artist
- 3,339
- Posts
- 21
- Years
- Age 38
- The deepest, darkest corner of Ilex Forest
- Seen Oct 15, 2019
Hello there,
This is the first fanfic I've posted here on PC. :) I used to write fanfics ages ago, but I've tried a different approach this time. I'd be glad to hear any feedback you may have on this fic. It focuses on a Pok?mon trainer named Mike, who is lured into a mysterious tournament...
It's PG due to some of the battle details in the Pokemon battles, just to be safe. :)
~*Paths of Light and Shadow*~ by Forest Grovyle
Chapter One
With utter determination, the Mightyena leapt at its opponent, ready to crush its hide in its needle-sharp claws. Froth spilled from its mouth, and its fangs were bared like silver daggers. The Nidorino was quick enough to dodge, and skidded to a halt, standing its ground, threatening the Mightyena with its poisonous horn. Both Pok?mon glared at each other, fury burning in their eyes.
"Mightyena! Bite, now!" commanded a voice from the arena. It took no notice, instead snarling at its opponent, ready for it to make its move. It would hear no trainer's call. Nidorino spared no time in launching a ferocious Horn Attack, hitting Mightyena directly in its side, and causing it to fall to the ground. Poison leaked out of the monster's horn, trickling down Mightyena's coat in streams. The wolf-like Pok?mon howled in pain, and staggered to stand. Its breaths were halting and disjointed, and its legs began to shake as the poison took effect.
"Now, Nidorino, finish it off with a Double Kick!" Hearing his trainer, Nidorino cried out, and rammed his clawed foot onto the wound, sending Mightyena tumbling to the floor. He did not cease. Again, he thrust at his foe, knocking the wind out of him. Mightyena let out a muffled cry of pain, and his trainer quickly called him back to his Pok?ball. He could not bear to see any more.
Nidorino cried victoriously, and began to walk back to his trainer's side. His trainer awaited him with open arms. It was strange, thought the spectator, that such a ferocious creature in battle could be such a loyal companion. He stood from his seat, and began to applaud.
"Very good!" he said, with a slight sneer. "You have a most excellently trained Pok?mon." He stepped onto the arena floor. Stepping towards the trainer, he saw the Nidorino shuffle under his gaze. He let out a croaky laugh. "You must be proud," he said to its trainer.
The trainer nodded enthusiastically. He was a young man, perhaps in his early twenties, and yet to have such control over poison Pok?mon...he was bound to be a future champion. The spectator glanced down at his Nidorino.
"They are dangerous Pok?mon," he commented, "and you have done very well to train one." The pink-coloured Pok?mon recoiled slightly, as he reached out to touch its rough hide. "Do not be afraid," laughed the spectator, "you have no need to fear me." As he knelt down to pet the creature, it lashed out at him with its horn, slicing a fine cut into the skin of his hand. The spectator jumped, and quickly jerked his hand away, examining the wound.
"With all due respects, sir," said the trainer humbly, "Nidorino does not take well to strangers." The spectator reached for his pocket, and pulled out a handkerchief, with which he hastily bound his hand.
"I see," he said acidly. "Well, that does not change the fact that you are the winner of this tournament." He paused for a moment, looking once again to the creature which had wounded him, and then back into the trainer's eyes. "What is your name?"
"Mike," replied the trainer, rather uneasily. He was unsure of this man's motives - something told him that this tournament was unlike any he had entered before. The spectator nodded, and beckoned towards him.
"Follow me," he said, without emotion.
Exiting the arena, they walked down a long corridor. It was silent, save for the sound of Nidorino's nervous breaths. The passageway was dimly lit, and the air was cold as ice. Nidorino nudged at Mike's leg.
"What is it?" he asked irritably. He was not one to have a temper, but this place made him feel uncomfortable. There was something about it that was wrong, but he felt obliged to enter here...he knew not why, and this troubled him. Nidorino motioned to his belt. "Okay," said Mike, reaching for his Pok?ball, "here you go." With a quick flash of light, Nidorino was gone, safe inside the device. Mike wished he could have done the same.
Neither had said a word for quite some time, so Mike was rather surprised when his accompanier raised his voice.
"I suppose you are wondering who I am."
Mike hesitated for a second before answering.
"Well," he said shakily, "it had crossed my mind-" The man held up his hand.
"My name is Giovanni," he said, seeming to wait for some sort of reaction. He turned to Mike, and stared at him intently, studying his every move. When no reaction came, he smiled a crooked smile, and cracked his knuckles. "Good," he said, with a tone Mike could not quite place. He then turned again, and continued to navigate the winding corridor.
It was not long before the passage opened up into a large chamber. There were no windows, but the room was incredibly tall, allowing four floodlights to tower at the corners. Giovanni closed the metal door behind them, and fastened the latch.
"I'll make this plain and simple for you," he said, turning to face the young champion, "I want your Pok?mon."
What? thought Mike, his hand subconciously reaching for the Pok?balls on his belt. Was he really serious?
"Why do you think I held this tournament, kid?" Giovanni laughed mockingly at him. Mike stood defiant. He was not going to let this thief steal his Pok?mon - they were more than just battlers, they were his friends - and he would never give them up, not this easily. Giovanni grew impatient. "Hand them over." Mike scowled at him.
"Never," he spat. Giovanni's expression quickly changed to one of utter discontent. His brow furrowed, and his lips slipped into a frown.
"I should have known you wouldn't comply," he sighed, cracking his knuckles once again. "I guess we'll just have to settle this the hard way." Reaching into the pocket of his suit, he took out a dark-coloured Pok?ball, the likes of which Mike had never seen. "A Pok?mon battle. One on one." He touched the button on its surface, allowing it to large to battle size.
"And if I refuse?" Mike said, eyeing Giovanni carefully. Giovanni laughed.
"Then I shall have to take your Pok?mon by force!" he scoffed. "And that, I assure you, will be much more painful." Mike looked down at the six Pok?balls on his belt. Each of them had served him well in battle; each was his loyal partner, and each was invaluable to him.
"Well?" asked Giovanni irritably. "What's it going to be, kid?"
"I will battle," replied Mike, "but if I win, you let me and my Pok?mon go, and never bother us again." He hoped dearly that Giovanni would comply with his demands, but he did not appear a man of reason. Still, he had no choice. It was better to take these chances than to face the consequences. Giovanni looked solemn.
"Fine," he said, "but I think your chances of winning are far less than you've anticipated." He spun the Pok?ball in his hand. "Shall we begin?"
Which Pok?mon to choose? Mike thought as carefully as he could in the time he was given. He couldn't use Nidorino - Giovanni knew of him, and so could plan ahead. He unclipped an Ultra Ball, and stared Giovanni in the eye.
"Okay." He gritted his teeth.
Both hurled the Pok?balls into the arena.
This is the first fanfic I've posted here on PC. :) I used to write fanfics ages ago, but I've tried a different approach this time. I'd be glad to hear any feedback you may have on this fic. It focuses on a Pok?mon trainer named Mike, who is lured into a mysterious tournament...
It's PG due to some of the battle details in the Pokemon battles, just to be safe. :)
~*Paths of Light and Shadow*~ by Forest Grovyle
Chapter One
With utter determination, the Mightyena leapt at its opponent, ready to crush its hide in its needle-sharp claws. Froth spilled from its mouth, and its fangs were bared like silver daggers. The Nidorino was quick enough to dodge, and skidded to a halt, standing its ground, threatening the Mightyena with its poisonous horn. Both Pok?mon glared at each other, fury burning in their eyes.
"Mightyena! Bite, now!" commanded a voice from the arena. It took no notice, instead snarling at its opponent, ready for it to make its move. It would hear no trainer's call. Nidorino spared no time in launching a ferocious Horn Attack, hitting Mightyena directly in its side, and causing it to fall to the ground. Poison leaked out of the monster's horn, trickling down Mightyena's coat in streams. The wolf-like Pok?mon howled in pain, and staggered to stand. Its breaths were halting and disjointed, and its legs began to shake as the poison took effect.
"Now, Nidorino, finish it off with a Double Kick!" Hearing his trainer, Nidorino cried out, and rammed his clawed foot onto the wound, sending Mightyena tumbling to the floor. He did not cease. Again, he thrust at his foe, knocking the wind out of him. Mightyena let out a muffled cry of pain, and his trainer quickly called him back to his Pok?ball. He could not bear to see any more.
Nidorino cried victoriously, and began to walk back to his trainer's side. His trainer awaited him with open arms. It was strange, thought the spectator, that such a ferocious creature in battle could be such a loyal companion. He stood from his seat, and began to applaud.
"Very good!" he said, with a slight sneer. "You have a most excellently trained Pok?mon." He stepped onto the arena floor. Stepping towards the trainer, he saw the Nidorino shuffle under his gaze. He let out a croaky laugh. "You must be proud," he said to its trainer.
The trainer nodded enthusiastically. He was a young man, perhaps in his early twenties, and yet to have such control over poison Pok?mon...he was bound to be a future champion. The spectator glanced down at his Nidorino.
"They are dangerous Pok?mon," he commented, "and you have done very well to train one." The pink-coloured Pok?mon recoiled slightly, as he reached out to touch its rough hide. "Do not be afraid," laughed the spectator, "you have no need to fear me." As he knelt down to pet the creature, it lashed out at him with its horn, slicing a fine cut into the skin of his hand. The spectator jumped, and quickly jerked his hand away, examining the wound.
"With all due respects, sir," said the trainer humbly, "Nidorino does not take well to strangers." The spectator reached for his pocket, and pulled out a handkerchief, with which he hastily bound his hand.
"I see," he said acidly. "Well, that does not change the fact that you are the winner of this tournament." He paused for a moment, looking once again to the creature which had wounded him, and then back into the trainer's eyes. "What is your name?"
"Mike," replied the trainer, rather uneasily. He was unsure of this man's motives - something told him that this tournament was unlike any he had entered before. The spectator nodded, and beckoned towards him.
"Follow me," he said, without emotion.
Exiting the arena, they walked down a long corridor. It was silent, save for the sound of Nidorino's nervous breaths. The passageway was dimly lit, and the air was cold as ice. Nidorino nudged at Mike's leg.
"What is it?" he asked irritably. He was not one to have a temper, but this place made him feel uncomfortable. There was something about it that was wrong, but he felt obliged to enter here...he knew not why, and this troubled him. Nidorino motioned to his belt. "Okay," said Mike, reaching for his Pok?ball, "here you go." With a quick flash of light, Nidorino was gone, safe inside the device. Mike wished he could have done the same.
Neither had said a word for quite some time, so Mike was rather surprised when his accompanier raised his voice.
"I suppose you are wondering who I am."
Mike hesitated for a second before answering.
"Well," he said shakily, "it had crossed my mind-" The man held up his hand.
"My name is Giovanni," he said, seeming to wait for some sort of reaction. He turned to Mike, and stared at him intently, studying his every move. When no reaction came, he smiled a crooked smile, and cracked his knuckles. "Good," he said, with a tone Mike could not quite place. He then turned again, and continued to navigate the winding corridor.
It was not long before the passage opened up into a large chamber. There were no windows, but the room was incredibly tall, allowing four floodlights to tower at the corners. Giovanni closed the metal door behind them, and fastened the latch.
"I'll make this plain and simple for you," he said, turning to face the young champion, "I want your Pok?mon."
What? thought Mike, his hand subconciously reaching for the Pok?balls on his belt. Was he really serious?
"Why do you think I held this tournament, kid?" Giovanni laughed mockingly at him. Mike stood defiant. He was not going to let this thief steal his Pok?mon - they were more than just battlers, they were his friends - and he would never give them up, not this easily. Giovanni grew impatient. "Hand them over." Mike scowled at him.
"Never," he spat. Giovanni's expression quickly changed to one of utter discontent. His brow furrowed, and his lips slipped into a frown.
"I should have known you wouldn't comply," he sighed, cracking his knuckles once again. "I guess we'll just have to settle this the hard way." Reaching into the pocket of his suit, he took out a dark-coloured Pok?ball, the likes of which Mike had never seen. "A Pok?mon battle. One on one." He touched the button on its surface, allowing it to large to battle size.
"And if I refuse?" Mike said, eyeing Giovanni carefully. Giovanni laughed.
"Then I shall have to take your Pok?mon by force!" he scoffed. "And that, I assure you, will be much more painful." Mike looked down at the six Pok?balls on his belt. Each of them had served him well in battle; each was his loyal partner, and each was invaluable to him.
"Well?" asked Giovanni irritably. "What's it going to be, kid?"
"I will battle," replied Mike, "but if I win, you let me and my Pok?mon go, and never bother us again." He hoped dearly that Giovanni would comply with his demands, but he did not appear a man of reason. Still, he had no choice. It was better to take these chances than to face the consequences. Giovanni looked solemn.
"Fine," he said, "but I think your chances of winning are far less than you've anticipated." He spun the Pok?ball in his hand. "Shall we begin?"
Which Pok?mon to choose? Mike thought as carefully as he could in the time he was given. He couldn't use Nidorino - Giovanni knew of him, and so could plan ahead. He unclipped an Ultra Ball, and stared Giovanni in the eye.
"Okay." He gritted his teeth.
Both hurled the Pok?balls into the arena.