[Pokémon] Tales of the Hashashin: the Pledge of Death

[Ray Maverick]

[M] for blood, violence, language & moderate romance.

"Arceus created Pokemon, during the Making, and gifted them with the elements to protect themselves. On the era after the Making, the Age of Heroes, the gift of the elements led to the superiors being able to feed on the inferiors - the equality was broken, and hierarchy was formed, Kingdoms were raised, thousands died for a purpose no longer their own. The people were plagued by heresies that led to fierce wars and bitter divisions of our whole kind. Naturally, seeing the development of his creation, Arceus was none too pleased. Death was not his will; so he called forth the Paragon of the Dark, Darkrai, and gave him the Dark Plate. From it, Darkrai fused his spirit with those of a thousand Pokemon, and the Stranger was born."

Shango cringed, smirking his emerald eyes in suspicion."The Stranger?"

"That's what the Precursor runes from the Age of Heroes introduce him as. But we prefer to call him the Phantom Dancer. His mission was to ensure that there would be no more Kingdoms to die for, to establish the peace that was supposed to follow the Making of our world. And to keep in check these powerful crystals, the darkstars, to guard their secret and defend their existence."

"The Phantom Dancer's descendants are called the voidborn. Along with his powers, we inherited his cause: to guard the darkstars. The first of us descended into these lands from the northern mountains as the Zoroarks - and Chantalai Ancelotti was the first one to be fully active. Inspired by the lost history of his people, he created the Brotherhood of the Hashashin to continue the purpose of the Phantom Dancer. The assassins were made to kill those who possessed knowledge over the darkstars and sought to use them for their own gain."

"You said the Stranger was called the Phantom Dancer... how can it be? I am the Phantom Dancer," Shango declared.

"True enough, you're the Stranger's reincarnation. You're one and the same, a soul with the same purpose. You will protect the darkstars, learn from them, wield them, and kill for them."


Chapter 1: Royal Arrow to the Knee
​

There was a pond with running water, crystal clear, grass and trees growing all around it. On the rock above it, a golden crown was carved with the symbol of the Hesperian Empire under it: the Swellow. That was the resting place of King Eoleo, as an aquatic Pokemon like him would prefer it. He wasn't one for being inside palaces; recently, he had commanded his servants to prepare the pond outside, in the yard.

King Eoleo was an Empoleon, praised for his efforts to limit criminality and keep the smallfolk of Hesperia equal to the aristocrats. He wasn't famed for his wits or kindness as much as he was for his pride and stubbornness, and many of the Lords of the Empire challenged him as dull and unmoving, even went as far as to claim he's a coward for not going to war with the bold Stygian Empire. King Eoleo liked peace, and he would not hear anyone who would try to break it; he had many years to live, he felt, and he would do anything in his power to keep the peace and the residents of his Empire in bliss. His dream was to create the perfect order within his Empire, so that everyone would live their lives without any complaint.

He was particularly excited about this evening. A Stygian aristocrat had asked him to marry his daughter, Princess Rosa, and he would be visiting soon. That connection would seal the peace between the two nations for a long time... of course, he did see that this Stygian would one day be the King of Hesperia, if he married his Princess. Many in Hesperia claimed that he was an unsuitable match, as he was born so far away. But Eoleo knew better. This man, this Stygian aristocrat, he was coming from a family that bore the infamous name of the most brutal Hesperian dynasty that had been cast out centuries ago: Imperatore.

Their latest descendant was named Angelo Imperatore, a charming and clever Zangoose with lots of charisma. He was utterly convinced that that Zangoose was going to help him preserve the peace, and be the perfect King to leave behind as his heir... he also believed that Angelo would help him deal with that nuisance, the so-called Phantom Dancer, who was terrorizing the people of Stygia and opposing the Endarkened Ones. The aristocrats of Stygia, to be precise. Oh, he had plans for Angelo Imperatore. He was going to get him recruited in the order of the Endarkened Ones; he would share their goals and embrace them. The recruitment of another King would be another great victory for them. A pity he could not make something like that out of his daughter Rosa. All she cared about was the looks of her soon-to-be husband, though she was quite afraid as well.

She had come to him, as he was standing next to the pond quietly. Rosa was a beautiful Weavile in her twenties, the typical princess that awaited the knight in golden armor. She was commanding by nature, thinking of luxury and satisfaction as her birth rights; of course, Eoleo had raised her that way, to be a powerful woman who knew what was best for her. She had grown to be his precious, only child, and he had vowed to give her the best husband.

"Daddy?" Rosa said, "is he coming?"

"Yes, dear, Angelo will arrive soon."

"Oh, he's the perfect prince..."

Eoleo smiled happily, taking note of his daughter's appearance. She had taken care of herself well; she wouldn't disappoint him, he was sure.

Moments later, they heard sounds from the path. Soon enough, here he was, walking towards them. The Zangoose was clad in golden armor, like in the fairytales, his shoulderpads and braces full of spikes. His facial hair was long and wild and racing with the breeze. Although it was night, it shone with the distant lights of the palace on the other side of the royal garden. Angelo had wore a half smile that showed some of his sharp teeth, his green eyes flashing in the dusk. A third, watching him smile like that, would tell it was malice. But not Eoleo or Rosa. They loved him at first sight.

He kneeled in front of Rosa, taking her hand to kiss it gently, having his eyes fixed on her. His eyes were emeralds, her eyes were rubies, fitting jewels for their status of power. Rosa had almost fainted from the intensity of his look and his bright smile.

"Princess Rosa," he greeted her, then got up, still holding her hand, and nodded towards the King, as if he was welcoming him. "My King. Ever since I laid my eyes on your daughter, she captured my heart. I am here to ask of her hand, so that I may hold it for the rest of my life."

The King almost blushed from his courtesy. "Yes, you may marry her..."

"Wonderful. I would rather that happened as soon as possible." There was something cocky, something commanding in his voice that the King would not like if he was not too dazed by the man's attitude. He was going to be a King one day, after all.

"How about... in a month?" the King proposed. "The preparations had better be amazing. I only have one daughter."

"No, not so much time," Angelo said in a steel tone. "I say in three days." He leaned towards the King with a trusting look on his face. "The sooner the better. The Stygian High Command is up to no good. The peace has to be sealed."

"Ah," Eoleo exclaimed, wondering when the Stygian High Command was up to any good. "Yes, of course. I will need to discuss a few matters with you, Angelo, if we are to proceed with the marriage."

"They can wait a bit, no?" He turned to Rosa, to smile once again. "I would like some time alone with Rosa."

"Of course, of course! You can stay here. I will..." Eoleo looked awkwardly around. "I will head to my palace and make sure everything is in its place."

Eoleo left them alone, smiling as he listened to their fading voices.

"I wore my emerald necklace for you," she said, pretending to be shy.

"The only jewels I need are your eyes," he said sweetly.

They would make the perfect couple. Angelo was right; the marriage had best take place as soon as possible.



***

The day after the happy marriage, the heavy golden doors of the majestic throne room burst open and Angelo walked in, his golden armor clinging tight on his body. He got past the two Drapion guards clad in the platinum royal guards, headed straight for the throne, where King Eoleo was sitting, welcoming with his wings open.
​

"My son," he called out with a dull smile. He begun noticing Angelo's expression. He wasn't smiling like he was before; his expression was a stone wall of cold, hard determination. What he saw in his emerald eyes was not the shining and gallant Prince that had married his daughter. It was something entirely different. As Angelo approached swiftly on the steps, without kneeling or showing any signs of acknowledging him, King Eoleo got up from his throne.

Angelo grabbed the Empoleon's shoulder tightly with his left hand, and he buried his right one right into his torso, blood spattering all over the royal carpet. The King tried to scream, but the breath had gone out of him. He had fallen, stunned and overcome with astonishment.

"You have served your purpose," Angelo told him, crouching above him. At that moment, as he choked on his own blood, the King realized what was going on.

"Shango? You are... Shango. You... should... be dead. The... Nightingale... killed you."

The Zangoose's face was washed with a dark cloud of anger, his green eyes brimming with what seemed like a vicious satisfaction. "The Pledge of Death is set in motion, Eoleo. I will not die. I will walk on this earth and I will draw breath, I will root every one of you, and I will not lay down until you are all dead."

Eoleo understood now. "So... you are the Phantom Dancer. Your efforts are futile... the Endarkened Ones will live on..."

Shango grabbed the Empoleon's crown with force, pulling it up to make him look at him right in his eyes. "I am the King of Hesperia now," he whispered, "there is no stopping me. The world has had enough of your manipulations, your lies and your pathetic scheming for order and control. Die, now, in peace." The storm had gone from his face as he let Eoleo's head down on the royal carpet.

"I should have known," the former King whispered in defeat, closing his eyes, "I should have known it was you... take care of my daughter..."

Once he was done, Shango got up in his golden armor and crossed the red carpet, headed for the door. The two guards were like statues, unblinking, having seen, but having done nothing. He stopped between them, without looking at either.

"An Ionian assassin has killed the King. Spread the word." An Ionian assassin. It was not entirely false.

 

[Ray Maverick]

Chapter 2: The Imperatore Fraud
​

The wind was fierce, whole trees moving, their rustling raw and pestering to his ears. The grass under his thick boots was wet, a pond not too far from the spot he was standing, still and immovable as a statue. A high wall surrounded this garden, seemingly tall enough to be impassable. That was what the Stygian aristocrats of the Botanica thought, that their prized gardens, the most beautiful part of the otherwise disgusting Black Citadel of Stygia, were impenetrable. The Botanica was nothing but a cut off-spire that emerged right from the abyss, with only a bridge connecting it to the rest of the city. On top of that spire's chalky edge, these gardens had bloomed magically centuries ago, when it was cut. Shango had told all of this to Hector, who was ignoring him as usual, obviously not too interested in historical matters.

Hector was eager and nervous, more violent in this state; he rustled the bushes of the gardens as he prowled among them, but nobody noticed as the wind carried the same effect. The wind, the perfect cover. Shango praised himself for his wits with a grin. Yet as Hector was prowling in the bushes, he needed not to. He was standing, watching a too curious guard headed his way and shouting a question. But the only thing the curious guard was seeing was a shadow overlapped by the intense sunlight that was brutally against his eyes.

"Who goes there?"

The guard of the aristocratic building moved towards him for a closer inspection, another one watching him carefully as he entered the woods of the garden. The shadow of Hector appeared behind the one in the entrance, his claws driven through a belly and a throat, blood trickling down, a silenced cry and some more rustling. The instant the other guard turned, he sensed a more dire presence behind him. Shango was standing behind him the moment he turned, but before the Krokorok could scream, unseen blades impaled his throat, lifting him up the air. The body was disposed into the pond, the clear water quickly stained with blood. Two Krokoroks would soon be found dead in the woods of the Botanica, along with their main target. Hector was standing there, in place of the other guard, grinning at Shango evily despite the blinding sun that seemed not to affect the two voids of eyes he had. He was a Zangoose, like him, only his facial hair was a lot wilder, tufts of it racing all around with the wind. He had even tied some of them to knots in an attempt to shorten them. The red fur of his hands didn't look stained the blood of the life he had taken.

"Not half bad," he rasped, his rough voice always touched by his bold feral spirit. "Not half good either!"

Shango smiled casually and walked through the path of the garden, headed to the entrance of the building they were about to enter. "I thought you would carve a piece to eat while we are on our way."

"Hehehaha," he laughed the way nobody else did. "I respect my brother's guards."

"You wouldn't even be contemplating killing your brother, if you held any respect for him," Shango pointed out, his own grin hidden behind his mask. They weren't in a hurry, so a little chatter with Hector would do them good. Suddenly, he had gotten serious.

"Wurmples eat your brains, Shango, you're a damn hypocrite. Lecturing me about respect after you agreed to do this. Fine, I'll let you kill him," he started laughing again, "but only if you let me get into his place."

"No," he replied instantly in a strict expression, all the laughter gone from his face. "Fancy yourself a throne, huh?"

"And the wonder that sits next to it," Hector said, his expression twisting with lust, perhaps on purpose. He meant of Princess Rosa, of course, the treat he was after along with the throne.

"No way," Shango repeated intensely. He didn't care for Rosa, nor for the throne for that matter, but it had to be him. Hector would screw the thing up, he knew. "Do you imagine yourself, going over King Eoleo's palace to ask to marry his daughter? You're gonna blow it up, brother." They called each other 'brother' as an innuendo of their similar looks and the obvious relation that couldn't be proven anyhow.

Hector now seemed angry. "Prove yourself worthy of the task," he said, raising his hands, his claws ready. Shango's grin became softer, but he moved nothing else.

"I thought we agreed on this."

"You agreed with yourself, as you always do."

"That's because I can win this challenge of yours without striking a single blow."

Hector looked at him, aghast. "What you call confidence knows no boundaries. I call it foolishness."

"Try and see for yourself." Shango had removed his hood, his green eyes sparkling like pretty gems through the holes of the Phantom Dancer's mask. His will was overflowing him, the sun was falling on his cloak, as if pushing him forward. He brimmed with a strange power, one that was capable of breaking the will of his opponent as easily as his hands broke stone. Hector put down his arms. They stayed silent.

"How do you do this? Damn you," there was a tone of complaint in his voice, despite his fierceness from before. Sometimes, he became a child again.

Out of nowhere, a being of the ether popped on Shango's shoulder, the sound of giggles filling the garden along with a flame brighter than the sun, but not blinding. It was his Victini, namely Tristana, the sprite of fire that always followed him and kept him eternal company.

"And where were you, little miss?" Hector asked her as if scolding her, having forgotten what had just went on. He didn't really mind. But he didn't know what powers Shango's friend had either. When she did help them by exploding into flames, she fainted. She was weak, the way Hector saw it. Shango disagreed by some instinct of his.

"Right here," she said. "I never left, why would I?"

"We thought you were guarding us! Go back to your spot!"

"Zaunix's taken care of everything," she responded. Shango raised his hand to scratch her between the ears, making her giggle again.

"Did he swallow them whole?" Shango asked, knowingly and somewhat teasingly. He knew how afraid his little friend was of their other friend, who was strange to say the least.

"Yes, he did," Tristana whimpered, making the two Zangooses laugh. "How does he even do that? That's not normal…"

"He is not normal," Hector said, no pity in his voice.

The thought of Zaunix brought images to Shango's mind in the present, making him shiver in his sleep. He was indeed not normal. A Scyther, not green like his species, but black. He had scythes, not two like a normal Scyther, but four, he had a head, but a misshapen and monstrous one. A mutant of a Pokemon with abilities unheard of to their world, Shango always thought of him as product of a rotten, corrupt imagination that was infused into the darkstar he once held in his hand, by one of its previous owners. But, apart from his appearance, Zaunix had kept the heart of a pure Scyther. His remembrance faded, as the dream advanced...

"We've lingered long enough," the Shango of the past declared in his dream. He was headed into the building. Hector followed him soon after into the empty, quiet hall.

"You'd think your brother is playing tricks on us," Shango said as he walked through it, towards the grand stairs that led to the upper floors. Real aristocrats, these Imperatores, ever since they were the Kings of Hesperia. They had fallen centuries ago, but Shango intended on bringing them back to power. The fact that he looked exactly like Hector and his brother, Angelo, was most fitting for their plan. Three Zangooses, looking exactly like each other. Shango was going to impersonate Angelo and ask Princess Rosa to marry him... he would be King of Hesperia in a few weeks of time. Only Angelo needed to die silently first, before anything.

"Please," Shango said, grinning and pointing up the stairs, "after you, brother. I bet you would be happy to kill him. I hear he's ill, lately." There was something meaningful about his expression.

"The poison didn't quite work, right? The dose was big enough, the Prophet knew what he was doing when he agreed to help us. But the fool used poison, against our kind."

"Sometimes I doubt his wits," Shango joked. In actuality, he knew what had gone wrong. The tears of an Altaria weren't exactly a poison, they simply cut through whatever they touched as if it were paper. The Prophet had known that it would likely kill even a Zangoose, who had immunity to poison, but Angelo had proven to have a far stronger stomach than anyone would've believed. Perhaps because of the plants of the Botanica that entered it daily. Hector always mocked his brother for preferring herbs instead of raw meat. As for Shango, he wondered how Angelo had come to this, putting aside all his instincts for prey and meat.

"Well, we're here to finish what's left of him, lest he lives and remembers who poisoned him," Shango said.

"That's only gonna make it easier," Hector commented, "my idiot brother would be missing a head if he even insulted this Prophet."

"True, true." As Shango walked up the stairs, a blinding light covered the hall. The image faded, continuing to be a memory.

***
​

The heavy doors of the throne's room opened slowly, waking Shango from his daydreaming. He was sitting on the golden throne, leaning on his left elbow and drumming his right hand's claws on the handle. The wind entered through the tall windows, making the Hesperian banners flap gently; the wind was fitting for the Swellow Hesperians kept as their symbol. A female Purugly walked in the throne room, reluctant and fearful. She eyed the Zangoose clad in the golden armor, sitting on very the throne King Eoleo was sitting on two days ago.

"Your Grace," she said instinctively, kneeling when she reached the steps. The way he looked at her made her quickly look down in fear. The new King did not like to be disturbed.

"Out with it."

"Your brother has come to visit..."

"Let him in," he said, waving his hand lazily. He noticed the servant was staring at him ceaselessly, staying put. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"The Princess... I mean, the Queen is devastated by her father's death."

The King of Hesperia leaned on his right arm, touching his forehead and sighing. "I know. I would be, too."

The concerned maid left without another word; three minutes passed, until Hector Imperatore marched into the throne's room. He was wearing a bone necklace and a big pouch was hanging from his leather belt. Once he got past the two guards of the entrance, he glanced behind him and winked at them. Then, he faced Shango and walked over to him, without kneeling. They looked almost identical, especially now that Shango had grown out his facial fur so much.

"Hey, 'brother'," he snickered, then leaned forward so only Shango and him could hear them. "Got yourself a nice throne, eh? Might as well stay where you are."

Shango smirked his eyebrows in a serious expression, making it clear to his voidborn friend that he wasn't enjoying it one bit. "How fares the search?" his low voice was full curiosity.

"The darkstar's gone," Hector whispered, shrugging. "Nobody in this blasted palace knew of this 'treasure of the King'. In any case," his tone slightly changed, "I propose we focus on our original intent."

Shango was surprised to see how much Hector had changed over the years - six years had turned him from immature and impulsive into patient and calculating; he almost showed the qualities of an Hashashin. As for Shango, the years he spent away from the life of the Phantom Dancer were most rewarding to him. Not only he had become deadlier, but smarter as well. It was his idea to impersonate Angelo Imperatore, Hector's brother, and ask Princess Rosa to marry him under that name. Of course, that meant, the real Angelo had to die.

"I agree," Shango finally said, "it's no use lolling about here."

Suddenly, the doors of the room opened again and Queen Rosa burst in. She didn't look at Hector as she passed by furiously; she stood in front of Shango, crossing her arms and staring at him intently with her ruby eyes flashing. Shango's own stare was colder than the winter of Stygia. He detested her from when she was a girl, but he never had the faintest idea of what she would be like as a woman. It wasn't three days since he had married her, and he already wanted to be over with this King business. He was doing all this for a purpose, after all.

"Angelo! I demand that you investigate my dad's murder!" she yelled at his face, causing absolutely no apparent effect on him. She still did not recognize he was Shango. Foolish girl.

"I have done all I could," he said without blinking and subconsciously grabbed hold of his right wrist, the arm he was using to kill. "It was an Ionian who killed the King, that's as far as we know."

Hector put a hand on the Queen's shoulder and she looked at him angrily; Shango shot him a warning look.

"Don't worry, Rosa," Hector said in an informal manner, removing his hand from the ticking bomb. "We will get revenge for your father."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, almost sarcastically as if she believed they were unable to do anything. "Oh, and what will you do to poor Ionia? Raise their taxes? Yes, I'll be satisfied with that!" she yelled again. Shango brought his hand onto his head, pushing his ears back. Her presence alone irritated him, let alone her voice.

"We are about to launch a full scale assault on Ionia," Shango stated in a steel tone. "I will personally lead my forces to Acheloos lake."

Rosa's red eyes flashed with what seemed to be lust for war, or so Shango thought.

"Then I'm coming with you," she stated stubbornly.

"You can't--" Hector started.

"Don't tell me what I can and what I can't do!" she yelled at him, stomping her thin foot on the floor. Shango took a fed up expression and waved his hand.

"Fine, you can come along."

"Really?" both her and Hector eyed him in astonishment.

"I thought you knew what you can and what you can't do," Shango said, a slightly mocking smile spread on his face. Her own face became red with embarassment, but she looked down in silence. He noticed she wasn't much concerned of her father's death, yet she wanted to invade Ionia with him to get revenge. Why was that? Shango couldn't help but wonder, because his assumption about Rosa's intentions wasn't born entirely off ground. She was sad about her father's death, but Shango didn't see her shed a single tear, despite what the servants were saying. That was suspicious.

A small, distracting smile appeared on the Weavile's reddened face; he could tell his charms had softened her up greatly, as she seemed to be a demanding and overall annoying person. But he couldn't deny that she was beautiful, too, although she looked like a withered flower compared to the remembrance of the Countess. Oh, Claire... Shango was daydreaming again, and Rosa seemed to notice.

"Angelo?" she called out, hands on her hips. "Are you sure it's clever to start a war? The people might be displeased... your name has a bad rep already."

"It's true, my brother," said Hector in a sincere manner that made him consider their words. "Hesperians haven't accepted us Imperatores just yet... they're saying we're the dynasty come again."

Aren't we? Shango mused, scratching his chin, then turned to Rosa. "Would you be kind enough to leave us alone for a bit?"

Rosa's lips became a firm line, her face shaken with irritation. Shango adopted one of his charming smiles, which were more lethal than his claws, as Azoreans put it. That wasn't true. Shango didn't waste his charm to everyone. "I promise I will keep you informed of our plans, my Queen."

Seeing a fight between her stubborn side and the captivated one, Shango turned to Hector and motioned him to come closer. With that, Rosa understood he would not accept a no for an answer and turned to leave. Along with her, her peculiar scent left the throne's room.

"She'll be a problem," Hector declared.

"A slight one."

"Oh, I'm sure you don't mind her pleasing you." Shango detected a hint of jealousy in Hector's voice and only smiled at the naivety of his friend; he had not touched Rosa yet, although she had allowed him to.

"Onto business, now. It seems that we cannot declare war simply because our King was supposedly killed by an Ionian."

Hector slightly nodded in agreement, his expression becoming serious at once; the Hector Shango knew didn't have this trait. But then again, the Hector he knew was six years younger. Shango's eyes drifted to the side of his golden throne, still unable to believe he was the King, and that he had truly fooled Eoleo with his impersonation. I suppose all Zangooses look alike. But he would rather be done with Kingship as fast as possible - Jericho was waiting to be killed in Ionia. That was their plan. Smash the Hesperian army against Ionia, full power, to destroy it absolutely. The reason... it was the most corrupt city. The center of operations of the Endarkened Ones. Shango would see the city burned to ground, just for that. Ever since the Ionian Verdict had denounced him as a traitor, every love for his homeland had vanished, to be replaced by a strange void that he thought was hatred... when he was younger, he had felt hatred for Nightingale, for what he had done. Now, all he could feel was cold fury, the need to go all out on them.

But since he could not command a direct attack on the city... a smile formed on his face. Time for the infamous plan B.

"Simply, we will have them attack first, but not by military means..." he said slowly.

"Do you think we'll be able to accomplish that?" Hector didn't seem quite sure he understood what Shango meant.

"No. Not alone. We must... procure some help from the outside."

"What're you thinking of?"

"Trading goods across Acheloos lake. If Hesperia ever was to build a ship on the lake, Ionia would lose its monopoly over the lake's waters. As stated by the Peace Treaty between Ionia and Hesperia, they are paying taxes to the Empire, in condition that the Empire does not invade the trades of the lake."

Hector looked down and scratched his chin; as he did that, Shango would have sworn he was looking himself in the mirror. He was about to say something, but Shango cut him off.

"Moving forces in a village near Ionia would cause tension."

"That won't suffice."

"... and we take down their coastal fort."

"That equals a direct attack."

"Not if we make it look like an accident."

Hector's black eyes met his green ones; he had an expression as if he was thinking hard. "Ah," he finally said. "So, with our forces nearby, Ionia will blame us... I hate to admit it, but it's brilliant, brother."

Shango said nothing in response, only kept his calm expression up. "Speaking of brilliance, how is my little Tristana?"

"Hah! Poor girl's still mad at you. Damn you and your schemes. You always get the girl mad!"

Shango sighed deeply and grabbed his right wrist.

"... Inform Zaunix of our plans, and tell him to meet us in Angula. Tristana has no word in this, unfortunately."

Hector put his hand on his chest, and Shango got up from his throne to mimic him. The two Zangoose shook hands with each other, exchanging the same, identical grin of mutual understanding. Sometimes, he truly felt as if he was related to Hector Imperatore.

"You're lucky you get to impersonate my brother," Hector said suddenly, glancing behind him, where Rosa had gone off to. Shango got where he was coming from.

"It was her first time. She wasn't very good," Shango lied, shrugging. Hector licked his lips.

"Still..." he persisted, "you'll be able to teach her a few things."

"I'd rather invest my time in seeing to our operation's success, brother," he said with a generous smile and patted Hector's shoulder heartily. His friend burst into a primal laughter.

"Shame, Shango! You were more of a ladies man, back in the day! Hah!"

Shango kept his smile up, agreeing with Hector. He had changed alot on the ladies department, especially after Countess Claire... who he thought to be the love of his life. Her death had almost driven him mad with despair, and he had travelled around the known world, seeking freedom from the bitter memory of her. After six years, that despair had turned into a boiling, unstoppable fury that often made him feel as if he had lost his sanity. At times, he felt as if his only objective in life was that of the Phantom Dancer: to eliminate the Endarkened Ones.

At any cost, he would wipe them from this world. Even if it meant starting a war.

Hector was now walking away from the throne, and Shango took back his seat in the ultimate position of the monarch, grasping the arm handles and staring forward. The void he was feeling was boiling inside him.

He sluggishly untied the red sash under his golden chestguard; facing inside, burried into his white fur, was the insignia of the Hashashin. His thoughts shot back to his friends and relatives, Enzo and Crystal, and he silently promised them a brotherhood free of any corruption, as he tightened the insignia in his fist with such power that blood came to bless it. He remembered Uncle Pasqual and what he had taught him about surpressing his emotions in battle, in order to fully utilize his brutality and skills. He taught him that life was a constant battle - and the ruthlessness and merciless he had to show in battle, he had to show in life as well. That was why he had killed the King so easily.

He wondered, was his anger for Jericho holding him back, and from the future he promised to the Hashashin? Or was it simply embracing him? Either way, it was time for a relaxing bath in the King's luxurious quarters.

***


​

One month had passed since the marriage of Angelo Imperatore and Rosa Nagrand, which reignited the flames of the Imperatore dynasty, causing reactions from the residents of the Empire. The sudden death of Eoleo Nagrand hit Hesperia hard as well; rumors that the new King had planned the assassination begun floating around, but they were disputed heavily and gradually died. Shango had to take precautions. Being an Imperatore wasn't easy. He had to face the people and do them kind deeds to show them he would make a good King. Having convinced the people that he had good intentions and plans for the future, he managed to ready a big part of the military force and send it to the town of Angula. He personally led them there and commanded the construction of a giant camp just outside the town. Over a hundred tents, ten soldiers in each, could fit into the camp; along with the King's personal tents. Most Hesperians considered the fact that the King was only protected by one thousand soldiers madness, but then again, they did not know who he really was.

The very first night of their settlement in Angula, Shango dismissed every servant and guard from his tent, granting them the night free. He and Rosa were alone in the tent, but he wasn't in the same mood as her. A cozy bonfire was burning in the middle of the tent, heating the quarters and lending them its shivering light.

The Queen was eyeing him naughtily from the cotton bed as he removed his golden armor; he profoundly ignored her and continued to put the parts of his armor on the table in front of him. He didn't like to admit it, but the armor was heavy. Reworking his battling tactics would be a must if he ever happened to battle in it.

"Angelo," Rosa called out to him. Shango briefly looked at her, then back at the steel chest in front of him.

"Hmm?"

Rosa got up from the bed and he turned to face her. Surprisingly, the Weavile had a fuzzy smile on her face as she approached him. He eyed her suspiciously, smirking his eyebrows; she simply giggled at his reaction, and put her cold hand in his chest. Shango bit his tongue, leaning backwards over the table. He was taller than her, yet she managed to lean over him, their bodies pressing each other, and kiss him. Her hands were now buried in his chest's fur, pushing him back against the table. The sensation Shango got from it wasn't the same as he always remembered it; he hadn't done that ever since Claire had died. He had been with many girls ever since her death, many more than the rest of his life, but none felt the same. When she let go of the kiss, she looked in his green eyes with a half smile, still leaning over him.

"I've got to reward my King..." she explained, "for taking the revenge of my father so seriously."

Shango chuckled and brought his hand on her face, gently caressing her cheek, all the way back to her ear's feather. In truth, he didn't know what to say. How to handle this. She was annoying at times, but that didn't give him the excuse to lie straight into her face. But then again, he had lied to all Hesperians about keeping a friendly relationship with Ionia, when in fact he was planning its destruction. He was lying to everybody, and he was manipulating a whole nation to be his weapon. His conscience was clearing. He was doing that for a higher purpose.

"I love your brilliant plan," she purred, lust for blood in her voice. "Force them to attack us..." she started laughing evily, then sighed, looking at him in admiration. "You know, I never thought you'd be this clever, Angelo..." She was ready to take their 'meeting' further. Shango thought of having his way with her; it wouldn't hurt any, and Hector didn't have to know. But she was annoying, so he had to pay her back in the same coin.

Shango grabbed the back of her head and kissed her deeply, again. He lifted her in his arms easily, throwing her on the bed and getting on top of her. He suddenly stopped, got up, wearing his mocking smile. "Speaking of my plan, I've got a meeting to attend to."

Her face was flushed, irritated that Shango had cut off so abruptly, and was now shaken with doubt and temper. "Wait... you were about to... hmph. I'll come with you, then," she said, getting up, but Shango pushed her back on the bed.

"No. You will stay here," he stated in an absolute tone. "I'll keep you informed. Don't worry," he added more gently, seeing she was ready to snap.

"Where will you be going?" she asked coldly, frowning. All the warmth from before had vanished from her and her look became twisted in a way that repulsed Shango. He begun feeling angry that his mind was ordering him to keep as far away as possible from such a person, but his body was constantly telling him to go for it.

"I'm going to see some old friends. They will aid us to our cause."

"Fine, then."

"But, you'll keep it a secret."

"Okay, okay!"

Shango grabbed a key from the table and walked away from Rosa, rolling his eyes. It was as if he was dealing with a child.

 

[Nolafus]

I like to review writing one chapter at a time so thoughts don't escape my mind. After reading chapter one, here are my thoughts on it.

I didn't catch any grammar mistakes, but I felt like the chapter moved too quickly. I felt a little cheated by missing out on the wedding. I felt like it was a valuable scene where the reader could have been introduced to more character traits and made the reader care about the characters more. When Eoleo was killed by Angelo, I didn't feel any emotions. I felt like I should have because Eoleo seems like a very likable character, but there wasn't enough time between where we first meet him and when he dies to build a sort of relationship with the character. My suggestion would be to include the wedding so that the reader likes Eoleo more and it comes as more of an emotional jerk when Angelo, or I guess Shango, betrays him. I think the length would be fine as the second chapter is considerably longer and it would help even the two out.

First of all, I would put some sort of warning at the top for mild adult content for the blood and sexual language. I know nothing happens, but some people really take offense to the slightest sexual sayings and it wouldn't be nice to put anybody off.

"Zaunix's taken care of anything," she responded. Shango raised his hand to scratch her between the ears, making her giggle again.

This sounds a little weird because normally these statements sound something like Zaunix's taken care of everything or Zaunix can take care of anything. Just a little something to consider revising as it sounds a little weird currently.

There's a twist I didn't see coming! I really like the twist you added and I felt like you didn't leave anything out. I have hardly any conflict with the second chapter. I think everything you wanted to come across did and it made the story a lot more interesting.

Overall this might just be the most detailed and polished fan-fiction I have ever read. I don't read that many fics, but I can tell you spent a lot of time on it. Keep up the good work and I'll be looking forward to the next update.

 

[Ray Maverick]

Thanks for your review. I'll consider writing the part of the marriage, but I felt it was little too irrelevant to Shango's story. Anyhow, here is chapter 3:

Chapter 3: The Voidborn Conspiracy

​

Shango sneaked out of the tent and blended in with the shadows the wooden logs that surrounded the camp provided. The full moon and the stars of the clear sky were illuminating the whole camp, yet he remained unseen from the soldiers that stood guard in front of each tent. Nights like these Shango was disturbed, because he couldn't move around freely and enjoy the advantage his eyes were giving him in the dark. He would never choose this night if he was going out for a job. Zaunix was the one to summon him tonight; but the mutant Scyther had no trouble hiding in plain sight.

Shango felt complete, prowling in the shadows as he was. It was the first time in a while when he stopped being 'Angelo' and returned to his old habits; the only thing missing was his cloak and mask. These objects were one of the reasons Shango wanted to see Zaunix, who had kept them safe all this time. The other reason was Tristana. Although he had missed her, he was afraid that she would be mad at him. When she learned of his plans, she heavily protested, claiming that war wasn't the solution. So many innocent Pokemon would die in this war, Shango knew it, yet he was willing to take this as far as it could go. He had his reasons, along with the other voidborns.

The main reason he was itching to meet up with Zaunix was putting in motion their malevolent plan: burn down Fort Stone, which resided next to the lake's coast.

He climbed up the sentry tower of the camp, the wind blowing through his exposed fur. A memory of the past, where he was flying, was shot into the plane of his reality and he felt as if he was reliving that moment. Seconds after, he was at the top of the tower, staring at the back of a Furret in a blue and golden uniform who was watching the darkness of the forest that surrounded the camp. Shango's quiet steps went unnoticed, despite the increased hearing Furret's possessed. His strong hands were wrapped around the Pokemon's neck, choking it for two seconds; he then slammed the Sentry's head against the tower. The damage was calculated - not fatal, enough to knock out the Pokemon.

"It's the only way of getting out unnoticed," Shango whispered apologetically to the Furret laying unconscious. He thought it was ironic how he didn't just kill one of his own men while he would soon send them all to die. He was such a hypocrite, but he didn't even care.

Shango looked down the tower on the grass below, thinking it was about fifteen feet height; he leaped without second thought and tumbled to the ground with ease. Getting up, he spent a moment to look around the trees, then directed himself towards the sounds and smells of Angula town.

***

"Phantom Dancer," somebody called out to him; the voice seemed to come from nearby, but Shango was in the middle of the road. He figured it was Zaunix by the peculiar way the cobblestone next to him altered and shifted under his look.

"Zaunix," he greeted him formally.

"You were successful," Zaunix continued, still invisible.

"I was. Our plan is coming along quite nicely."

"Come... Hector's waiting."

Shango followed the visually manipulated fabric in front of him to the closer house, the first one on the edge of the town. A small light was coming from the window of the small wooden house; it seemed so old and fragile, even the gentle wind could throw it apart.

Once they were at the doorstep, the door opened; an aggravated Hector greeted them and stepped aside for Zaunix to enter and become visible again. Shango followed right behind, his eyes exploring the room momentarily. It looked nothing special, a few wooden boxes on its sides, two beds made of leaves. The main source of light was a bonfire, its smoke coming out of an opening on the roof. Tristana was flying high, her body slightly glimmering red. She had crossed her arms as she always did when she was angry, but when she saw Shango, she couldn't help but dive into his welcoming arms.

"Shango! You could have died!"

"Half of my life I could have died."

"That's not true," she said, biting her lips. Tristana was a cute Victini with blue eyes and fluffy ears. Although her emotions were mixed, the heat radiating from her body was as cozy as always, enough to form a gentle smile on Shango's face. Hector rolled his eyes, closing the door and taking a seat around the bonfire next to the black Scyther. Shango sat on the ground next to them; across the brimming fire, the faces of the voidborns were staring at him petting Tristana.

"Look at all this hair," Tristana cried suddenly, grabbing the wild fur of his face and pulling it in a desperate manner.

"Hey, what're you on about?" Hector interrupted, grabbing his own fur and staring at Tristana angrily. It was obvious those two had gotten into an argument, and it wasn't about hair.

"He looks scary..."

"It'll stay like this for a while, I'm afraid."

Tristana's blue eyes were fixed on his green ones, and he could instantly tell what she was thinking. Typical of Tristana. He braced himself and all of his answers.

"Shango," she started, "you can't do this! So many innocents will die so you can take one single life!"

"Our goal is to vanquish the Endarkened One's center of operations, Ionia. Not only destroy the Chancellor."

"There's gotta be another way..." Tristana muttered, having calmed down a bit.

"If there was, we would have known it," Zaunix said. "Jericho has started a dictatorship inside his city, using the Ionian Verdict to enforce law. No one goes in or out. We can't sneak into the city by air, as the sky is guarded..."

"Besides, we've got a hunch something bigger is involved," Hector added, smirking his eyebrows and leaning forward, close to the bonfire. His black eyes seemed as if sucking in the reflection of the dancing fire in front of him.
​

"Oh?" Shango started doodling with his claw on the ground, looking down, but having his mind elsewhere.

"We thought we would have Eoleo's darkstar by our side," Zaunix explained, "but it was gone. He was holding it in his palace, but now it's gone."

"Get to the point, Zaun," Hector poked him.

"We found signs that enabled us to trace it," Zaunix continued.

"Do we have a location?" Shango had drawn four arrows, each pointing at the cardinal directions, and a circle in the middle. With his other hand, he subsconciously scratched Tristana's belly.

"Fort Stone," said Zaunix. Shango looked up at him plainly.

"One more reason to infiltrate it..." he said in a low voice. "But that means, Ionia is involved in the stone's theft."

"When exactly did it disappear?" Zaunix asked.

"The night of the marriage. I heard Eoleo talking to himself about it."

Silence fell amongst them; only the sound of the fire kept on. Hector picked up a stick from the stack next to him and threw it in the fire, renewing it.

"We ought to get going," Zaunix suddenly said.

"Where to?" Shango asked.

"Fort Stone, tonight."

"Why didn't you warn me earlier?" Shango complained in a slightly irritated tone.

"There was no way. It's tonight that we strike. If the darkstar is still in the Fort, we will find it. We take it, and we burn down the Fort."

Shango thought about Queen Rosa; she would surely be angry at him for not warning her for the fireworks. Paying her back to make her forget would be a must when he got back at dawn. Concluding at this, he nodded at Zaunix and got up. The Scyther headed over to a chest and showed him it.

"Your cloak, Phantom Dancer."

His mind quickly flew away from Rosa as he got up from his spot near the bonfire and threw Tristana to his shoulder. He kneeled over the chest with lust only known to him; the silly thought that he was addicted to the Phantom Dancer's cloak and mask crossed his mind, but he didn't pay much attention. When he opened the chest, his eyes feasted on the shiny, polished cloak and the steel mask that fit perfectly onto his face despite the wild facial hair. The runes on the sleeves and sides of the cloak were glowing very faintly, barely visible under the light of the bonfire.

He wore his hood and directed his ears out of it, while turning his sash inside out to show the insignia of the Hashashin. The feeling of fulfillment that possessed him was much greater than his reunion with his friends after weeks of pressure, sadly. He discovered he would rather work alone, as he did for all these years.

Zaunix looked at him. "Good. Now, let's head out. And remember, mind your stealth..."

"It depends on what you mean by stealth," Shango said with a slight grin under his mask. "Stealth is either not being seen, or not letting there be any witnesses."

Hector started laughing. "Oh, brother, your journey must've taught you something!"

"It has."

 

[Nolafus]

Shango followed the visually manipulated fabric in front of him in the closer house, the first one on the edge of the town.

The bolded "in" makes it sound like the fabric is already inside the house. I would suggest changing it to "to". When you say "closer", it sounds weird because you're not really comparing the house to anything. I think it would sound better as "closest".

"Oh?" Shango started doodling with his claw on the ground, looking down but having his mind elsewhere.

You need a comma after "down".

"Why didn't you warn me earlier?" Shango complained n a slightly irritated tone.

You forgot the "i" in front of the "n"

That's all I found for grammar.

In all honesty, it's really hard for me to find something wrong with the fundamentals of the story. It's polished, flows, and even I don't get lost (trust me, I get lost in books ALL the time). I wish I could find something to critique on besides grammar, but I can't. Once again, I say nice job. I will be looking forward to the next chapter.

 

[Ray Maverick]

Chapter 4: Fort Stone
​

The silence of this forest was well known to Shango; having grown up in Ionia, he had spent his early childhood hunting in these parts, around the massive lake of Acheloos. The Ionian Verdict was also assigning him with missions regarding the forest's protection. Memories well stored started jumping out of the depths of his mind, but they felt unknown to him, as if they belonged to another person. He was an entirely different person back then, blind and ignorant to the true ways of the world, but happy and carefree. Nothing but a child with purpose that had little of important impact on evil, unlike now. Violence and war he had only known in the tales Ascendio was telling him and from the history books of the Academy's library. The first step he took into knowing the world was with the Hashashin: Yanakard, Myriapolis. He met and fought the injustice with his own claws. Throughout his journey, he observed it from a far, avoiding to meddle with it - except in the Black Citadel.

On the Black Citadel, when he killed the newest member of the Endarkened Ones not long after they had recruited him, he had found out that they mainly operated in Ionia. By then, he had quickly understood that injustice was a symptom and not the phenomenon. That's when he decided to uproot the problem right from its nest, by starting a war that would leave Ionia burning to the ground.

Had I been wrong, about this war I had started?

Wrong as it seemed from the perception of people, it was not for him, at least not right then. This wasn't about them anymore. It was about the darkstars, powers above all of them. If they were to be held by the Endarkened Ones... who was to say the whole world was not in danger?

He was always confident in his choices, and this was no exception. Besides, he did not see any other choice. Now that Ascendio had died, he had no reason to doubt his decision to destroy Ionia. His mind was at peace after the journey, with all the atrocities againist the people he had witnessed pushed back into a corner of his mind. If they could commit atrocities, he could, too. Time was perfect to fully devote himself to the Phantom Dancer's goal.


The three voidborn were slowly walking up a hill, only their steps echoing around nature. A slight breeze was only enough to move the leaves gently, seemingly stroking them before a storm. The full moon and the stars were lighting the forest and the lake; they could see its glimmering waters on their side as they elevated. Shango put off his mask and hung it from his sash, then removed his hood to let the refreshing breeze blow through his fur. Tristana was sitting on his shoulder, cuddling on his cheek and trying to grab his attention, but he seemed too focused to notice her.

"What's the plan?" Hector inquired, jumping on a rock. Zaunix leaped into the air, climbing higher up the hill then stopped to wait for them.

"Before we burn the Fort down, we make sure we have located the darkstar," the Scyther's loud buzz killed the peace of the night. "Commander James Vescourt is sure to possess the information we need. Ensure he survives."

They reached the top of the hill, from where Fort Stone was visible; the illuminated waters of the lake hugged around the hill where it was built. The forest underneath seemed familiar to Shango, though he hadn't set foot in this part of Hesperia for a long time. His eyes traveled from the Fort in front of them towards the north, in the direction where Ionia was; Acheloos lake was so big, the city wasn't even visible in the distance. All he could see was water on the horizon.

"There are two squads of patrolling guards down there," Zaunix said, scythe pointing at the forest below them.

"We hunt them," Hector said in a raspy voice, rubbing his hands and claws together.

"After we silence them, we infiltrate the Fort... somehow," the black Scyther continued. Shango looked at him. The moonlight made him look even more scary as it fell on his mutated head.

"Haven't you found a way in already?" Shango asked in an impatient, demanding manner. He glanced at Fort Stone again; a series of tall and pointy wooden logs on top of the hill surrounding cotton tents inside, two sentry towers at each side of the closed gate. He quickly looked for a way in.

"Not yet," Zaunix said, looking at the camp as well. Shango put his foot on a rock and leaned forward, half shutting his eyes as he scanned the area. After a few moments of thought, he concluded.

"Our point of entry is at the trees, next to the southeast tower."

Before Zaunix could answer, they heard Hector whistling subtly; he had his ears perked up like when Shango was hearing a suspicious sound. When they looked over at him, he pointed at the forest below. Shango could hear them too. Multiple feet were marching, shadows were moving between the trees. Hector quickly leaped down the hill, staying close to the ground. Shango had gone hunting with Hector, and he knew that when he moved like that, some poor soul was going to be lost soon.

Zaunix flew above them, flapping his wings quickly but silently. Shango put on his mask and hood as he descended along with his friends on their stealthy approach. Tristana shook on his shoulder; her small glow was gone, as she was invisible.

Hector leaped from a small cliff forming on the foot of the hill into the bushes, and Shango launched himself a tree's branch. He remembered how the Otori had taught him to hunt in the forest. Leap from above. They had taught him to walk on the trees as he would walk on the ground; he would be honest if he said he liked to be above his prey.

Meanwhile the Scyther, whose buzz would surely alert the patrol, flew higher and higher as the two Zangooses progressed further into the forest, towards the muffled sounds of the footsteps. Anticipation rose, Shango savored the moment of free run on the tree's branches where he balanced his body effortlessly. He heard Hector growling slightly but continuously, staying put in the edge of the same bush, on the side of the road. Shango stopped on the branch above him, sitting on his ankles.

A breeze blew through the trees momentarily, then calmed to leave everything unmoving; the predators had completely blended in with the darkness of their environment, Hector had stopped growling and the patrol was slowly approaching. The moonlight made the details of their figures clear: two Machokes in the front, wearing the green uniform of the Needlers. The four nether blades appeared on Shango's vambraces after a small, purple glow and the familiar metallic sound.

Tonight, you feast on Ionian blood, Shango spoke to his blades and made them dance with his imagination. With his eyes fixed on the patrolling guards, around eight in numbers, he readied himself, waiting for Hector to strike first. Once they had passed in front of the Zangoose hiding in the bushes, he let out a roar and pounced on their side; Shango leaped downwards as well. He kept an eye on Hector, who had ravaged half of the squad in seconds, roaring furiously and killing his targets with brutal, merciless blows. Shango on the other hand, his hits were more precise and deadly.

Within seconds, all of the Ionians were laying on the ground as they were caught completely off guard by the two prowlers. Blood was dripping down Hector's chin and hands, and he also had a wound on the side of his chest, which was going up and down from his uncontrollable panting. Shango, on the other hand, was clean, calm and serene. His blades faded into nothing.

"I owe you one of them," Hector joked and chuckled, then he raised his hand to wipe his mouth, panting heavily. Shango glanced at the ground: Hector had killed five, against his three.

"You try too hard, brother," Shango chortled and turned towards the camp. Zaunix arrived shortly after and landed next to Shango.

"Let Hector take care of the other patrol," the Scyther said and nodded at Hector, who launched himself out of sight; Shango heard rustling noises as he ran through the bushes. He assumed he knew where the other patrol was, somehow.

"You chase down our friend James Vescourt," Zaunix said. "I'll take care that his men are busy."

Shango nodded quietly and looked at the road and rotated his vambraces slightly, tied his sash tighter around him and pulled his cloak around him. Zaunix followed him on foot once he set out towards the camp; they were silent, always on guard. Shango was hearing all kinds of sounds from wild Pokemon in the forest, but something was sending them away. After a while, he figured it was Zaunix' repulsive power that scared the beasts away. The unnatural scares them away...

When the camp was seen from behind the trees, Shango climbed up a tree and moved around the camp, towards its east side, where the branch reached the sentry tower. Once he settled on the tree with that branch, well hidden in the darkness, he examined the camp in front of him. Zaunix came to sit next to him. Such strange company.

"He'll see us," Zaunix said, looking at the sentry under the tower, keeping watch. Then he raised his head upwards, and Shango mimicked him. Flying Pokemon were circling around above the camp. Their movements indicated that they were patrols. "Another problem to deal with."

"Take care of them," Shango quietly ordered. He turned to look at the invisible spirit on his shoulder as Zaunix vanished out of sight. "Help me with the sentry." It was an Electabuzz. He was aware of their abilities, and he didn't want to get close.

Tristana popped, and her look was angry enough to let Shango know she was pissed enough to start an argument. "I don't much like your tone," she said stubbornly, raising her hand. Shango frowned under his mask and jumped to the branch, running towards its end. He pounced on the sentry tower, landing right on the Electabuzz that was standing guard, before the Pokemon could scream; his claws were sunken deep into the Pokemon's throat. Shango felt the sudden pain of the static electricity run through his body, paralyzing him instantly. He rolled next to the Pokemon with a solid sound.

Tristana let out a small cry and landed next to his head; he tried to get up, but he only managed to roll and kneel. He knew the pain would go away, eventually.

Sorry! Tristana spoke to his mind, but Shango would hear none. His rising anger was silent, and quickly suppressed by his prying senses. The Victini held her breath as she too heard a Pokemon was climbing the stairs of the sentry tower. Shango tried moving his claws at first, then his hands and arms. Little effect.

He slightly grunted as he crawled towards the edge, where the stairs were ending. He lay on the cold, wooden floor with arms slightly extended over the edge, barely visible from below. Blood was dripping down Shango's right claws as a warning sign to whoever was coming.

"Nathan?" a voice came from below, and the escalating Pokemon stayed put, waiting for a response. Shango glanced at the Electabuzz laying besides him; Nathan should have been his name.

"I'm coming up," the voice said and continued climbing the stairs. The sound of the wooden stairs indicated that the other soldier, or sentry, or whoever was getting closer and closer to the point; Shango's mind shaped the mental image of the nether blades shooting out of his vambraces, stabbing the Pokemon's neck.

He had his nether blades impaled on a Linoone's throat, who was struggling and quietly squealing with an expression of pure terror, soon to drown in blood. Shango's green eyes contrasted the red of the blood that was spilled on his mask and on the emblem of the Verdict that was stuck on the side of the Linoone's fur. His light body rose in the air, impaled by the blades, and his front legs were brought to the blades in a vain attempt to pull them out.

Although three of the four blades had sliced through flesh, the guard didn't die instantly, giving Shango a moment to study the Pokemon's reaction; he used to do that a lot. The deadly momentum arrived, and with a swing, Shango brought the dead Linoone up the sentry tower. Blood stained the wooden floor, dripping down from the gaps.

He slowly got up, kneeling on his knee; the effects paralysis had worn off. Tristana was flying next to him, full of worries and a hint of fear. She was always taking that upset expression when she knew Shango was angry, but it wasn't often that he scolded her about her mistakes regarding missions. Right now, he ignored her completely. Rubbing his right wrist, he walked over to the edge of the tower and grabbed the steel pole that was supporting the roof, as to not fall down from the pain all over his body. From his experience and medical knowledge, he knew it was nothing serious and that he would be alright soon enough.

His gaze traveled from one side of the Verdict's camp to the other. Two houses in the middle, along with many tents similar to the ones in the Hesperian camp, a small warehouse next to the tower where he was standing and a flag pole with the Ionian flag slightly waving. Another sentry tower was located where the camp met the lake. Throughout the dark of the night, Shango managed to detect a hand on the floor, that surely belonged to another Electabuzz sentry. Obviously, Zaunix had passed from there. Movement from above caught his attention and he saw the great bug, darker than the night, assaulting the flying guards and consuming them whole while still in flight.

Tristana's voice interrupted his thoughts of the interesting powers of the void that were displayed in front of him. "Shango... are you angry?"

"Was. And it was wrong of me... if you don't wish to get involved in my business, I shouldn't force you to do so," he said a plain tone, still staring at the camp below him.

"Don't get me wrong... I always want to help you!"

"I know, Tristana, I know."

"I didn't want this to happen..." she muttered, looking down. Shango could sense she was avoiding to look at the dead bodies behind them, as she was always upset by the sight of death. Sometimes he wondered if she'd still be following him if they weren't friends for so many years.

His attention was suddenly drawn to the ground, where two guards, two Granbulls had their heads up in the air, probably smelling the blood.

"It's quite alright," he said, after a while of observing the beasts who were tracking the smell down.

"Oh my," Tristana gasped, having noticed the Granbulls that separated ways: one for each sentry tower, staring at them intently.

"I remember working with half a dozen of these Pokemon," Shango said, in a lower voice; his tone remained unchanged, calm and collected as always. "Unpleasant lot."

"They seem more pleasant than... death," Tristana noticed, reminding Shango he was constantly being judged. Meanwhile, the Granbull had gotten dangerously close to the tower. "Well... aren't you gonna do something about him?" she asked, her disapproval disturbing him slightly.

"Not yet," Shango whispered, his sparkling emerald eyes fixed on the shadows next to the closest house, where the moonlight had no access to. "There is somebody invisible there."

Suddenly, the Needler Granbull turned around as the door of the closest house opened. A Shiftry appeared at the doorstep, staring at the Needler angrily; Shango could tell he was Commander James Vescourt from the war medal that man had stuck on his leather chestguard. He wasn't aware of this Commander; he seemed just about his age, around 30 years old, which meant he was newly appointed to the task - besides, what kind of Commander has only a single medal to show off? He figured they just promoted him in the outskirts of Acheloos lake to get rid of him, as he did seem like an irritable person.

"Boram!" the Shiftry shouted at the Granbull, who stood firm facing him.

"Yes, sir!"

"Care to explain why you're out of pos?"

Pos, as in position, Shango thought. Ionians and their speak.

"I am to guard the camp," the Granbull stated plainly. Shango could sense his feelings from the top of the sentry tower.

"Well, do your job then!"

Commander Vescourt turned to leave, not to enter the house again, but to take the road towards the other house. The small road the soldiers had made up was full of dirt, but at least it was rock free. A tree standing on the side of that small road blocked all of the moonlight from illuminating it; Shango, deeming this was the perfect chance, glanced up at the sky where the unnatural, slight and subtle buzz was coming from. He thought he had heard the word go, but he couldn't be so sure. He simply nodded and focused his attention on the walking Shiftry. Tristana was now flying above his head, knowing that he was about to take flight. Of course, his target was too far away, but as he had it all in his mind, distance would matter little.

"Please spare him," Tristana begged in an upset whisper.

"I will," Shango said for once, deciding to see her reaction if he held this promise. Besides, there was a good reason to let him live... an inspiration of the moment hatched a plan to ensure the coming of the war into his mind. Just as he was thinking that, the massive black figure of Zaunix landed on the ground above the Granbull, immobilizing the Pokemon and forcing him to scream for all the camp to hear. Soon all the members of the Verdict would be coming to see what was happening, except Commander Vescourt of course. Shango leaped down the sentry tower, landing on the warehouse's roof steadily, then continued to leap on the flag pole's tip. His eyes caught the image of the Commander below him turning around, just before he walked into the shadow of the tree. All in a second, Shango's balanced feet left the flag pole; he hung from a branch of the tree, and by dropping himself, he landed perfectly behind the Shiftry.

He grasped the Commander's belly and shaggy white mane, pulling him backwards and throwing him into the dirt. Before Vescourt could tell what was happening, Shango had gripped his neck with his right hand, the claws precisely placed on its side, ready to slice it open, and with the other hand scratching the side of his belly. The Shiftry's yellow eyes were widened in surprise, their pupils expanded in their attempt to pierce through the darkness and determine the species of his assailant.

Tristana's small heart beat faster, seeing her friend ready to kill as she had seen him do countless times before. Time had stopped for Shango, and he had instantly dove into the rift of James' life with no delay. Unlike the first times he had used this ability of the voidborns, instead of images, mind sequences appeared in the form of 'boxes full of sweets', as Shango had explained it to Tristana, sometime. These boxes were much like the results of an internet browser - just the data he was looking for and some other information, probably irrelevant. Processing one of these sequences of thoughts, various images appeared in his mind: two Bronzongs, obviously Keepers, were passing through the gates of this very camp, a chest made of tristanite floating in front of them; Commander James, from a different angle, keeping the chest in his private quarters inside the house, trying to break it open and pick its lock; Councilor Jericho, the most hated Armaldo, awaiting James to give him the chest; a massive ship, probably a frigate, making way from the camp and getting lost in the horizon with the beautiful sunset as background.

Shango focused his thoughts on the chest, determining the strange power the Commander was receiving the whole time it was in his possession; he identified it as a darkstar, and frowned upon seeing it gone. He abruptly interrupted his infiltration into the victim's mind and got off of the Shiftry, who stood there surprised.

"Why am I still alive?" he questioned Shango. The Zangoose, who was staring plainly forward, now looked at him. He ignored the screams and the noises of the channeled void that were coming behind him, as well as Tristana who was now invisible right above his shoulder, not daring to touch him when he was on duty.

"Your life is important. You may go."

Commander James stared at him doubtfully, wondering if Shango was toying with him. Shango could tell he was ready to fight by the way he was standing. However, the Shiftry chose to ask questions first. "Who are you?"

"Is it not obvious, Commander? Whoever moved to your neighborhood just a few days back?"

The Shiftry smirked his eyebrows, thinking for a moment. "You're an Hesperian."

Shango nodded. "Exactly. And we don't like this camp," he said, slightly grinning. He removed his mask purposefully in front of the Commander, who would surely see he was a Zangoose, and then turned his head upwards; releasing a stream of fire directly into the tree. The leaves caught on fire, which spread quickly. Seeing as the Shiftry was about to attack him, he turned at him and exhaled more fire, forcing him to jump out of the way.

Tristana grabbed the Phantom Dancer's mask and vanished into thin air with it, as Shango leaped backwards and faced the wooden houses, letting loose another flamethrower that ignited them; when his fiery breath found the warehouse, it blew up in an explosion that sent flying, flaming rubble everywhere. The tents caught on fire, the trees, the logs, everything.

Even though the screams continued, Zaunix appeared next to Shango and charged at Commander James, putting up a fierce fight. Shango didn't sit and watch the two, as he rushed towards the gate of the camp. Seeing as it was closed, and there was no way above the tall wooden logs that served as walls, he turned to the sentry tower that was next to the lake. He encountered nobody as he ran towards it, the fire brimming around him and the screams tearing through the night.

Rushing up the ladder he quickly found himself at the top. He glanced behind him once, admiring the gorgeous finale of this mission, then looked at the lake below him. The camp was built on a cliff, rather than its shore. The waters below him were deep enough for him to take the forty feet leap right into the lake. The burning camp was left behind him as another memory.

 

[Nolafus]

All he could see was water in the horizon.

I think you should change "in" to "on", as the water isn't actually in the horizon.

"Was. And it was wrong of me...

Consider changing the first period to a comma, to make it a complete sentence.

You did something I have seen very few writers do. You gave one of your victims a name.

"Nathan?" a voice came from below, and the escalating Pokemon stayed put, waiting for a response.

I really liked how you did that because it made the reader realize that these pokemon aren't just nameless beings that no one will miss. It adds a layer of depth to the story. Many writers avoid giving people/pokemon names because of their short appearance in the story and they feel like it's not worthwhile. I don't want you to go around and start naming every single one of your victims because then it starts losing its meaning. Naming this one, random pokemon was a perfect addition and added a lot to the story in a short amount of time. Just thought I would point it out.

Once again you have created another great update, leaving me to correct the rare grammar mistake you leave behind. The story gets pretty violent and graphic in this chapter, pushing it towards an "R" rating. If this continues, I would change the rating from "T", but it's fine for now. I look forward to your next update.

 

[Ray Maverick]

@Slayr234 Done and done.

Chapter 5: the Return of the Spirit of the Hashashin

His footsteps were echoing in the dark, filthy street of the dark side of the Black Citadel Alamagna, the pavement cold underneath his bare paws. It was one of those starless nights of Stygia, when the Citadel was engulfed in total dark. And the citizens were right to fear the dark... all kinds of things came out at night. Thieves and rogues, hungry monsters looking to prey, and... the Phantom Dancer. The dark was his element, the shadow his one and only love; however, there was something strange about this night.

His first clue was that he was wearing no boots. He'd have to scrub his feet real hard, to clean them of the filth of these streets... second, he was standing in front of a sewer pipe. The dark was so dense there, so impenetrable, that even his green eyes couldn't pierce through it like they normally would. It was a liquid kind of darkness, dark in its purest form, if you could call it that. He stood there, waiting, for what, he couldn't tell. There was something captivating about the darkness. That was his second clue. He wouldn't normally waste his time staring inside a sewer pipe. This was one of those dreams - the dreams he was constantly getting while with the Hashashin, years ago. They had stopped... but now they appear again?

It was a lucid dream. He could control himself. "So be it," he said, stepping into the sewer, the darkness engulfing him. He felt nothing but great fear then, for some reason. There was something down there, something big and scary, powerful enough to fry him to ash and destroy generations. He kept walking. Death wasn't what he was afraid, and this was a dream... he thought.

Someone was embracing him in the dark. His eyes tried to adjust, but he couldn't. He remained put, feeling the cold around him. The sound of a mouth, a snout perhaps, worn with age, opened in front of him; it was the one who was embracing him. He started singing a hymn in a foreign language that was unknown, unheard. The song was melodic but harsh, charming and captivating... Shango was caught up immediately, and he knew the tune. It was the same in every one of these lucid dreams. A hooded stranger appeared in front of him, sometimes close, sometimes far, singing the very same song each time, but with a different pace and tune. Not once did he remove his hood, and his cloak covered every characteristic of his body. He couldn't make out a word of his song, either. But he was scared of him, now that he had come back. He was saying something terrible, something cold and despicable, not quite like the other times.

His eyes started adjusting to the darkness, the song stopped. Silence hung heavy on the sewer. The one in front of him had his cold hands removed from Shango's shoulders, breaking the embrace. He could see them, now, old, black claws grasping the lining of his worn out grey hood... he yanked it down, and he was no Pokemon, he was something else, a creature of another dimension. It had a single, left green lifeless eye that was exactly the same as Shango's in its core. The Zangoose kneeled in front of it, unable to run or comprehend with its nature. He couldn't describe what it was. But that thing leaned over him, gripping his head tightly with its claws digging into his scalp, and spoke with a chilling, dead voice.

"We are coming for you, Shango."



Shango woke up sweating in his feather bed, then threw up the insides of his belly to the side. It was nothing but a mixture of an alcoholic beverage made from a berry called Cola and ale. Cola berries were illegal, but Kings made the exception... and paid for it. I will never drink alcohol again, Shango silently vowed, taking solace in the fact that he didn't do it often. His green gaze drifted to the other side of the feather bed, where Rosa was sleeping quite peacefully.

He cussed under his breath. One more reason to regret drinking: he'd slept with Rosa... hadn't he? He could remember her being a little ***** about not taking her out to burn Fort Stone together, as if it was cake walk like their march up to Angula. He cussed again and headed out of the tent, his Drapion guards stepping aside. He thought of it twice, then looked back at them. "I don't feel so good," he declared, "you, empty a tent. Go on, it won't hurt them to sleep out. And you, go fetch me a girl. Let none know about this, or I'll have your limbs cut, boiled and served to you." He didn't mean it, of course, but he had to stand up to the persona of Angelo. And it was working out.They were gone, but he had remained in place. "I need to find out if I'm still sexually able for the night," he muttered to himself, "otherwise I might've actually... done it with Rosa." He needed somebody he could talk to for his dream, too. The Spirit of the Hashashin, returns to tell me they are coming back... what does that mean?

***

She was a beautiful Flareon from the town, making a pose at the entrance of the tent. He sat back on the pillows, watching her small, shy smile as she stood there. He waved for her to come in, and she did, with a graceful walk that pleased him, although he was careful not to return the smile.

"Your Grace," she said with an accent, "I have been asked..."

"I know, I know."

"I am Daniella."

"Come here, Daniella," he patted the pillow he was leaning back on, and she joined him, cuddling up next to him, though she kept her distance and legs to herself.

"Where are you from?" he asked her with the charming half smile he reserved only for the ladies. "Sounds like a Scorching Steppes accent."

She laughed heartily but nervously. "Uhm... maybe," she chortled again in a cute manner. Shango remained scrutinizing her silently, still smiling. She wouldn't meet his gaze, as she kept staring down shyly. He liked himself a shy girl, it reminded him of his years in the Ionian Academy of War...

"Don't worry," he told her, "I'm friendly with the Scorching Steppes. If you're an immigrant, I allow it. You'll be a rightful citizen of the Empire."

The Flareon looked at him as if she didn't believe him. Shango decided to take some steps towards the desired intercourse. "Yes, after this."

Now it seemed as if she was getting bold. She raised her brow playfully. "Oh? This?"

"Closer, Daniella, you're about to have your mind blown."

He grabbed her warm leg and put it on his belly. She looked at him, her pupils dilated, as if she was lost in a strange kind of power he was radiating... perhaps it was primal charm.

He liked her touch too much. That meant he hadn't been with Rosa tonight. And he'd probably never would be. Damn, he was the King, he could bring any girl in the Kingdom in his private quarters. As Angelo, that'd probably shame the Nagrand family, but as Shango, he'd love it. He was no true King, after all... so he might as well enjoy the things he'd enjoy as a free man.
​

After he was done having his way with her, she was too exhausted to hear of dreams of his and such. She ended up sleeping, while Shango sneaked out of the tent to the King's quarters. For the sake of his conscience, he told the guard to sign the girl in as a citizen of the Empire... well, I'd give her all my gold for her services, if I could, his last thoughts were, before he fell onto the feathery bed with the distant Rosa, the dream of the Spirit of the Hashashin already forgotten.
​

 

[Nolafus]

A nice, low-key chapter. A good contrast from the last one.

He grabbed her warm leg on his belly and put it on his belly.

I would get of the first "on his belly" as it doesn't need to be there.

We are really pushing the "R" rating with this chapter, because something actually did happen. I'll be fine if you decide to keep it "T" because you skip over it, but the idea is there. The chapter is a nice change from the previous one and the main character gets even more complicated. What I mean is that I'm still trying to decide whether or not I like Shango. It's a fine line to walk along and a great example of having a main character that's not totally likeable is the play "Death of a Salesman". I want to like Shago, because he's the main character and is a really cool guy, but he has darker qualities that make me prevent completely rooting for him. Good job and keep it up.

 

[Ray Maverick]

A nice, low-key chapter. A good contrast from the last one.

I would get of the first "on his belly" as it doesn't need to be there.

We are really pushing the "R" rating with this chapter, because something actually did happen. I'll be fine if you decide to keep it "T" because you skip over it, but the idea is there. The chapter is a nice change from the previous one and the main character gets even more complicated. What I mean is that I'm still trying to decide whether or not I like Shango. It's a fine line to walk along and a great example of having a main character that's not totally likeable is the play "Death of a Salesman". I want to like Shango, because he's the main character and is a really cool guy, but he has darker qualities that make me prevent completely rooting for him. Good job and keep it up.
[/FONT]

The rating is changed, though I believe T was alright.

As for Shango, he was once really kind, nice and cool, up until his early adulthood, when he was indoctrinated into the ways of the Hashashin. Then he was met with the legacy of the Phantom Dancer and adopted his beliefs. As he grew up, Shango became an atheist, a nihilist and a naturalist - he does not believe in heaven or hell or in Arceus, he thinks lives have no meaning other than that you give them, and that there is absolutely nothing but oblivion beyond the natural world. All these beliefs combined, he thinks it alright to take lives relentlessly. His conscience is only upset when others around him are affected by murder and death - be it his loyal friend Tristana or the countless of families that would mourn the lives lost in the war.

You see, even if he does believe life has no meaning, he wants to end the sorrow. In a way, he is kind, and his heart aches when he sees sadness, sickness and poverty. But he has to have these darker qualities you mentioned, in order to achieve his goals, which in the end are for the greater good. The original motto of the Hashashin was, 'some lives in exchange for many'. He might not be with the order now, but he still follows their true meaning.

Chapter 6: the Ritual of Dark Intentions

There was a circus, in a town called Myriapolis. The city was the border between Hesperia and Stygia, so Pokemon from both Empires visited... and what better way to keep the minds of the masses away from the ongoing war, than a little show? Only, the circus was closed now. The night was dark, cloudy, the park empty but for a few stands next to some street lamps. The wind carried a few leaves as a stranger walked past the stand, a sign above it reading, "Ravenscare", the infamous circus enterprises that operated all around the two Empires. They were like nomads, these entertainers, scouring the rainy roads and mountains of Stygia or crossing the sunny, blooming plains of Hesperia, to go to the town that would put the fattest pouch of gold in front of them.

Seems innocent enough. What the commons weren't aware of is that Ravenscare was the tip of a shadow that loomed greater than the warlords and Kings... the shadow that belonged to the dark Brotherhood of the Hashashin, the unfailing assassins that wiped out disloyal powerful individuals in order to advance as a political faction of both the Empires. If there was ever a dispute between the Lords of Hesperia over who would become King, the one that decided were the Hashashin; in case any Pokemon opposed to their best interests rose to power, they were warned to change their minds. If they didn't change their minds, they were killed - silently and efficiently.

There was a Pokemon, standing behind the stand. It was a young Zoroark whose red, mean gaze was fixed on every passerby. He wore a red sash, where the insignia of the Hashashin was concealed under his dark fur. He was hissing quietly every time someone just walked past his stand, but probably they didn't find card tricks much too entertaining. One man, a fat Hariyama that looked to be a nobleman was approaching his stand, having a look of superiority about him. That's him, the young Zoroark thought, flicking a bit of his powers to conceal his grin beneath his illusion. His eyes brushed past the rich man's belt, where many pouches of gold were hanging from, jingling with every step he took. He stopped in front of the Hashashin, revealing an envelope, but keeping it firm and staring at the Zoroark.

"Do you happen to be Dimitri?" the Hariyama asked.

"Depends. Who's asking?" the Zoroark didn't hide his grin this time as he leaned back on the fence. Behind him was the park, where Ravenscare had established their circus.

The Hariyama seemed irritated, a red vein bulging on his forehead. "Don't play games with me," he said, his teeth gritted. "Take this," he left the envelope on the table. "The ritual has been performed. I want King Angelo dead... do your thing." He placed the envelope on the stand softly, then left.

The ritual... Dimitri thought while staring at the envelope, the features of his face drawn into a smirk. If some random nobleman wants a King dead, he's gonna have to pay a lot more than that. He opened the envelope, finding inside only a hundred golden berries, the currency of both Empires. He jerked his head to the fat Hariyama who was just turning round the corner. "Stupid hick, I'll show you," Dimitri snarled, getting off his stand to run furiously after the rich man. He leaped on a roof of a small house, then to the rocky roof of another one that brought him above the street where the Hariyama was suddenly running, as if he had sensed danger.

Dimitri commenced a free run on the rooftops, keeping his eyes on the fat nobleman and his jingling pouches. These should do for wasting my time. The moment the Hariyama turned to the dark alley beneath him, the Zoroark's feet left the roof. After a brief flight, he landed onto the fat Pokemon, tumbling into the ground and gripping his fat neck with both hands, ready to slice it off. The Hariyama squirmed and tried to overpower him, but the Zoroark's face had transformed into a Gengar with green, fiery tongue that resembled an Arbok. A hysterical laugh rung into the ears of the nobleman; Dimitri always liked to scare his victims before he killed them. It was part of his play.

The Hariyama's eyes were wide open and he had stopped fighting back, as if he'd almost fainted from fear.

Suddenly, from the shadows of the alley, a darker figure materialized; Dimitri raised his head to see a slender, feline figure under a worn out grey cloak staring at him. Beneath the hood, there was only one eye, a sparkling green one that was wide open and staring at him. I know you, Dimitri was about to say, keeping a tight grip on the nobleman's neck.

"Do it," the Spirit of the Hashashin commanded in a hissing whisper that echoed in the alley. "You know how. He deserves it."

"He does," Dimitri snarled with his snout grit, staring fiercely into the Hariyama's eyes. With a shriek, the Zoroark buried his claws into his neck and sliced it open as if it was paper. He was careful to avoid the streams of blood that emerged out of the messy kill. It would take a while like this, so he leaned in and shot a blast of darkness into the mouth of the other Pokemon. When Dimitri raised his head to look at the Spirit of the Hashashin, he felt the adrenaline rush diminishing, and the well known feeling of dread emerging when the green eyed phantom was present.

"The ritual is performed," it said. "Shango must die."

Dimitri looked at it carefully. "Shango's just a madman. Look at him, being King and starting a pointless war. He could be just enjoying stuff." He ripped off the pouches off the Hariyama's belt and buried them into his messy black mane to find them later.

The green eye blinked one time. "How hopelessly ignorant... but the ritual's requirements will be met. You were chosen to kill Shango Maverick, and you will do so..." the Spirit took a step forward, suddenly a lot taller than it originally appeared. It now loomed above him like a shadow, the hood gazing down upon him. A strange, immense kind of dark power was exerted from it, to be all imbued into its dead whisper.

"... or die."

***

​

"The Spirit of the Hashashin is a myth, brother."

Dimitri was back behind his stand, gathering his stuff with his newly acquired pouches jingling. His older sister, a Zoroark like him, was standing over the stand, having just heard his story. He had indeed seen the Spirit of the Hashashin again... it commanded, directed him. But he didn't mention it to his sister, and now he realized it was a mistake that he did. Crystal wasn't a superstitious person, even though she was loyal to the Hashashin and all. He didn't dare snap at her that all he saw was real, though, because he knew how she responded with her own fury every time he did that.

"You're speaking nonsense, I saw it," he hissed angrily, then looked at her, smirking his snout in a twisted expression. She was about fifteen years older than him, with the aura of the kind of person who didn't take too much **** from others. Although she wasn't pretty, she was a deadly assassin and a powerful Pokemon. Actually, all the Ancelottis were powerful... but she was special. That's why Master Ignacio was contemplating on promoting her to a Shadow Hunter, most probably... Dimitri was so jealous of her, he'd gladly stab her throat to waist.

"Listen here," Crystal said in the bossy tone she often used, "just because you've a colorful imagination, doesn't mean you can just 'see' phantoms. Maybe you've gone mad and you fool yourself with your own illusions." Her laugh was kind of heartless. "We don't even know if it's really Shango who's behind this conspiracy of the Imperatores."

"Shut up! I know he is, the Spirit told me so. And I know you don't want him dead, because you're a friend of his. Oh!" He rubbed his chin rather thoughtfully, his eyes wide open in a maniacal expression. "Maybe you were more than friends! You were lovers, now it's clear, of course--"

"He's our cousin, you twit," Crystal screamed, reaching over the stand to bash him over the head. "Have some decency! We never kill our own."

Dimitri felt a rush of anger run through him. He stepped on the stand and leaped at her, punching her snout. The two rolled in the street, fussing about, but Dimitri had engaged in a fight he couldn't win. Soon, he was overpowered, with a bleeding snout and the air from his belly all gone as Crystal kicked him.

Just as she was about to slap him, a dark portal materialized on the wall with a slight sound of distortion. The heads of a dragon popped out into the night, floating right above them; he was a Hydreigon with an evil expression on all of his three heads. Although he didn't look like it, he was old, perhaps older than two hundred years, yet he was still one of the best and most corrupted Hashashin. He was a legendary assassin that has spread fear over his name, Nightingale, through the completion of contracts deemed 'impossible'.

"Go on," the Nightingale said, "I'd very much like to see how this ends."

Crystal let go of her brother's neck and slowly got up, staring at the Hydreigon furiously and with hostility. The Nightingale was the one who had thought he had killed Shango, here in Myriapolis... for that, Crystal hated him and the corrupted Brotherhood, even though she was a loyal part of it. "What'd you want? Not out for a stroll, I suppose?"

Her brother moaned in pain in the ground. Nightingale glanced at him, then back at Crystal.

"You wanted to stop the assassination of King Angelo, I'm told."

She looked around for any spies. Unseen, as always, and how fast they traveled. That's how the Hashashin learned everything between the two Empires in a record time. Spies, everywhere...

"No--" she tried to protest.

"Yes," her brother gurgled from his bloody snout. The grin that formed on Nightingale's center head was mercilessly evil.

"Of course. The ritual's been done, Crystey. You do know that suggesting we go back on that... is against our laws. Therefore, I must deliver punishment..."

Crystal started laughing, her shrill laugh echoing in the empty street as she slowly stepped away from her brother. "You've been waiting a long time for this, haven't you? You're pathetic."

With a speed Nightingale hadn't anticipated, she charged at him in a Night Slash that left a gash on his head, while she slipped past him under the guise of an illusion. Dark was the element of both, so she would be found quickly... she cast a powerful illusion of chains of ice onto the Hydreigon, locking him into place despite his roars. She transformed into a steely grey Muk that stomped onto him, devouring him. Of course, it was just an illusion, but beneath it, Crystal brought her claws onto his back with all the power she could muster.

She knew the dragon would retaliate fiercely - he was no weakling if he was two hundred years old - so she leaped back and started free running on the street, at one point leaping onto a roof and continuing running there. She assumed Nightingale would be following, so she kept running and running... she was no part of the Hashashin anymore, that was for sure. Where else was left for her to go? At Shango's side...
​

 

[Nolafus]

The plot gets even more intense as an assassination is about to take root...

They were like nomads, these entertainers, scouring the rainy roads and mountains of Stygia or crossing the sunny, blooming plains of Hesperia, to go to the town that was put the fattest pouch of gold in front of them.

The last part needs to be revised a bit, it's currently a bit awkward.

the unfailing assassins that wiped out disloyal powerful individuals in order to advance as a political faction of both the Empires.

There needs to be a comma between "disloyal" and "powerful" as they are both being used as adjectives.

Although he didn't look like it, he was old, perhaps older than two hundred years old,

I would get rid of that last "old". It's just a little weird where it sits.

Dimitri looked at it carefully. "Shango's just a madman. Look at him, being King and starting a pointless war. He could be just enjoying stuff."

I really like this part. We learn how other people see him that aren't aware of what's going on inside his head.

So the plot takes an interesting turn. We see how Shango's old group runs things and now we have an assassination attempt on our beloved main character, that Crystal will probably warn Shango about. I look forward to see how your story will turn out. It's definitely well thought out, good job.

 

[Ray Maverick]

Chapter 7: Power Play
​

Three days had passed since Fort Stone was burnt to the ground entirely, only cinders to be left behind. The Pokemon of the forest made sure the fire didn't spread around in the Ionian forest, holding it off of the nearby trees with strong winds created by the community of the Shiftrys. When Shango returned inside his tent at night, he had to face Queen Rosa's complaints about not taking her to the fireworks with him, but he calmed her down promising that other kind of fireworks would be coming soon. And he was right - much to Tristana's dismay, everything seemed like the civil war would start any moment, as Ionian forces had begun their movement towards Angula town through the forest. Shango was standing with his back turned to the city, his shiny golden armor equipped, Tristana levitating besides him. He was facing the lined up soldiers, ten thousand were before him, both men and women, ready to fight with their lives to defend their Empire's pride. It seemed as if the plan of the Phantom Dancer had worked in perfection. While Tristana was in a state of anxiety and nervousness, Shango was entirely in the flow. His mind was clear and focused, sinking into the role of the King completely. He felt it was easy for him, as if he had done it again; once this was all done, he promised himself he would conduct a little research about his roots, to find out if he had royal blood running in his veins.

He glanced at Hector Imperatore besides him, who had grabbed hold of his right wrist in the characteristic way Shango did it, and for a moment he thought that he was copying him. After meeting him again after all these years, he felt that a connection, stronger than friendship, was binding them, and that they were surely related. Even the cocky, almost overconfident way he was looking at the silent, disciplined soldiers below him seemed like him. That could very well be because of Hector being promoted to one of the three Generals of the army, which was done after granting him knighthood. Many candidates and competitors went to protest againist power being granted to a second Imperatore, but they were silenced under the King's command. Another Pokemon was standing besides Shango right then; a Nidoking with extra thin, silver armor that fit perfectly onto his body. His name was Charlie Addams, and he was the General in command of the heavy artillery and Front-Line soldier squads. He was quite fearsome in battle, and deadly as they put it; Shango liked him for his prevalence over the troops, as well as for his good will and devotion to him.

The third General was absent from the scene - Shango and his advisers had decided that it was best not to bring Hesperia's full might into this battle, as the White Citadel would be left unguarded; the Ionians could be planning to flank them, for all they knew.

Shango looked at the soldiers of the first line, one by one; they were only looking forward, not at him, as was the Hesperian ethic. Their discipline was unmatched, their deadly effectiveness in battle chanted in songs. The bronze of their armors shone under the intense rays of the sun. There was a distinctive smell on the forest, carried around by a breeze. All Shango could smell was victory at that moment; he felt so confident, all hints of fear had vanished now that the war had commenced, with the Ionian armies approaching Angula, according to their airborne scouts. The army was now standing guard on the path between Ionia and the town of Angula. It wasn't necessarily the best position, but it would have to do - they outnumbered their enemy, after all. Ionia was nothing but a powerful city state under the protection of the Hesperian Empire, and now they stood against all their might.

A Swellow scout dove from the sky, in front of Shango, and stood firmly with her wings attached to her body.

"Salutations, Your Grace. Four thousand are coming towards this way, using the main road," she informed him. Shango brought his hands behind his back as he stared at her with his eyes sparkling and a light, welcoming smile on his face. He then took a deep breath and looked over the bird's shoulder, towards the army.

"It has happened," he shouted, and the Swellow stepped away; he raised his eyes up the sky before continuing, readying himself for the best choice of words he could deploy to manipulate the Pokemon before him. "The city we had taken under our care, the city who forged the strongest of alliances with us," he paused, his gaze falling on the soldiers of the front line, "is now declaring war upon us."

He started pacing across the line of soldiers. "By claiming that we burned their Fort down, not only do they insult our honesty, but our pride as a nation. And now, they dare challenge us."

It was clear that Shango's words had caused tension amongst the soldiers; anger had begun boiling inside them, he could see it in their expressions; he hid his satisfaction, only memorizing each detail the moment to savor it later, even years from now.

"So if they mean to have a war... let it be!"

His eyes fell on a Vigoroth, as he was pacing in front of him; Shango momentarily examined the Pokemon's expression, which contained no anger, only sacred concentration on him... he instantly sensed something strange about the Pokemon, his intuition booming in his mind - that Pokemon was a voidborn, and that Pokemon was now acknowledging the fact that he was a voidborn as well. As he passed him, he heard the wind, the movement of the Pokemon towards him; he turned just in time to see the Vigoroth in the golden armor leaping onto him just as he had did so many times. Claws that were aimed for his neck were sunk into his left shoulder, right under his spiky shoulderpad, as he jerked aside. Shango's own claws had stabbed right through the Pokemon's thin torso, their tips emerging from his back, bloodying his arm and the ground. Gazing at the Vigoroth with hazy green eyes, Shango saw its image fade in a familiar way, leaving behind a completely different Pokemon.

He was now able to see through the illusion of the Vigoroth, into a young Zoroark, blood dripping from its snout as he coughed. Shango's eyes traveled to its belt, where the insignia of the Hashashin was tuckered onto; slowly turning to look back at the Pokemon, he was able to recognize it as Crystal's brother, the son of Uncle Pasqual, in other words, one of his cousins. In a final outburst, the Zoroark let out a dark pulse which was all consumed by Shango's right hand, as he sliced the Hashashin's throat with it.

Shango plucked the red claws out of his shoulder and kneeled, placing the Hashashin on the grass gently. Rest in peace, he thought, subtly closing the eyes of his dead kin with a movement that was unseen from his soldiers. The whole thing had happened in two seconds, and the soldiers were now surrounding them worriedly. Shango could tell he was not badly injured, the wound was not too deep. He was surely in pain, but he had experienced worse, and it was bearable. He got up from the ground, his eyes finding focus again and his mind suddenly become crystal clear. Seeing all the soldiers in the golden armors around him, he adopted a disturbed expression that was apparently scary.

"Hold your positions and leave that body to rot there!" he barked angrily. Glancing at Hector behind him, he shot him a reassuring look that was caught on by Charlie as well. The Nidoking was not worried at all, as if he knew King Angelo would be able to handle the situation. Shango put his hands behind his back, although his shoulder throbbed, and stepped over the Zoroark on the ground, plucking out the insignia of the Hashashin that was tied onto his cousin's red sash. The blood painting the luscious grass bed beneath him.

Shango quickly glanced at nowhere, where Tristana was flying, to ask for her silence.

"As you can see," Shango yelled out to the thousand of soldiers, the ones at the back disciplined enough not to ask what had happened, "somebody failed to assassinate me," he stated quite bluntly. Whispers traveled all across the lined up soldiers, then deadly silence followed. He raised his hand, showing the insignia of the Hashashin to everyone. "They are now sending the Hashashin after me. See how low Ionians can fall."

He glanced back at the dead Hashashin, wondering who would put up the task to assassinate the Hesperian King himself to a youngling such as him. The corrupted ones, probably - Shango's heart was filled with silent hatred and anger, as he was drown in regret for having to take the life of the young Hashashin. He had no concern of 'compromising the brotherhood' anymore, as it was a corrupted Brotherhood that needed to be compromised in order to be set straight. He only mourned about his lost relative. As he walked away from the body, he sworn in finding out who had sent Pasqual's son in such a dangerous mission.

Blood was running down his white fur, blending in with his red mark of a thunder on his belly. He only looked forward, where he should have been looking.

"Just like they killed our beloved King Eoleo, they now seek to kill me... defiance against the Crown proves the Ionian hatred towards us," Shango shouted again, although he was not wearing any crown right now. The soldiers before him had gotten anxious, he could feel it, the tension was rising upwards, especially after the failed assassination. The assassination had come as a blessing, actually. By repelling it himself, King Angelo's own powers were confirmed; the title of the Hesperian King could be given to any one with royal blood, but it could not be kept for long by the weak. "If this is not a reason to vanquish them for their insolence, what is?"

The whole army broke in an angry battle cry, pounding the ground with their feet continuously. Shango motioned all of them to turn around, face the forest where the road was leading into. It was such a sight seeing all of them turn around under his command, that it brought a gentle, almost malevolent smile on his face. He could see now how Pokemon could be corrupted by power.

The time was nigh.

"My King," Charlie's voice came from behind; Shango turned to face the Nidoking, his smile replaced with his usual expression of seriousness. "Are you not worried that the Hashashin might try again?"

"I welcome them to," Shango almost laughed, although he felt differently, "if I get to live through another attempt at my life, that will mean something for these souls I send onward to battle."

The Nidoking nodded curtly. "What you say is true, Your Grace. The men need morale along with a purpose."

"So, go on, General. I will sit this one out," he said, clutching the back of his shoulder to stop the bleeding. Then, he turned to eye Hector besides him with meaning. "You go, too."

Hector patted Shango's ribs in an unofficial salute and walked away, followed by General Charlie.

"March onwards!" Shango heard Charlie shout. He quickly turned his look away, suddenly overcome by the constant, burning pain on his shoulder. He was greeted by a small group of soldiers that were left to guard Angula; they removed his shoulderpad and guided him to the town gently. Queen Rosa fell onto him, seemingly worried about his condition. Shango wondered if she was truly worried or pretending. Either way he did not care.

***

Into a rich house of the city they were led, where Shango requested they leave them alone; he sunk himself in the hot water of the stone tub that was forged in the ground, with his shoulder bandaged tightly. He could actually feel it heal, but he had lost a good amount of blood. He was feeling sleepy, plus he had a Weavile above his head, wanting to get in the tub with him. The situation was making Tristana laugh and giggle in a corner, away from the two. She didn't seem worried about Shango, and Shango wasn't worried about Shango, so that made two of them. Unlike Rosa, who had taken it all seriously. Then again, the wound rendered him unable to move his whole arm. Add that to the movement impairment the heavy armor was giving him, he would not be able to fight at all. He felt disgust that a King had the ability to take a bath when his soldiers were out dying for the Empire, but he was no true King anyway. In fact, he could not wait till he was over and done with this ridiculously official and open figure of Angelo Imperatore - he wanted to return to the Phantom Dancer's ways and habits as soon as possible, but that all depended on how long the war would last. Yet... who was to say he couldn't be both?

***

Shango lay back, resting in the tub, staring at the white ceiling dreamily. As he had gotten into the steam engulfing him, he had got lost in his thoughts. Rosa had finally let him alone - she was tending to him for hours, ever since he got back. Now she had left out of the house for a stroll, hoping to get updated on the battle. Tristana had revealed herself, now sitting behind Shango and running her tiny hands through his hair and rubbing his ears. Although it felt good, his doubts, regrets and fears didn't allow him to enjoy his bath wholly.

"Tristana," he called out to her, not abstracting his stare from the ceiling.

"Yes, Shango?"

"Do you remember the Spirit of the Hashashin?"

"I do... it was it who gave you your cloak, wasn't it? Back in the Otori forest, where you followed it into that strange altar. What about it?"

"I saw it, in my dream. It was one of those dreams again... only now, it spoke to me in the common tongue. It warned me that the Hashashin were coming. It didn't seem as friendly as before... what's changed?"

"Well, it seems you must have done something wrong, that is harming the Hashashin..."

"How? I only want to rid the world of the Endarkened Ones..." Shango remained silent, thinking. There was a catch there, and he would find it.

After a few moments of silence, he said: "Do you think I had a choice? Could I spare the Hashashin?"

Tristana bit her lip in a slightly upset expression and thought about it for a moment. "No, Shango... even if you did spare him, the troops wouldn't show any mercy..."

A wave of sadness hit Shango, who looked down at his paws. He still couldn't believe his claws had taken the life of an Hashashin. The lives of the Ionians were doomed in service of the Endarkened Ones. The lives of the Hesperians that would die fighting would go for a good cause. But the life of a voidborn... that was precious to him. "I feel ashamed that I don't even remember his name."

Tristana stayed silent, as she truly did not remember either; she could only recall hearing it once, when Uncle Pasqual revealed himself and his son. She had stopped brushing Shango's hair now. Suddenly, his ears perked up and he sat on the bottom of the tub, facing the entrance of the bath. The gorgeous Weavile was standing there, with a wild, twisted expression on her face.

"Shango," she said, and Shango instantly tightened his claws, feeling the adrenaline rush through him. Her red eyes glowed victoriously as she stared into him. Now she knows. "You can tell your spirit to stop hiding."

Shango didn't move; she was too far away, but if she tried to run, he would catch her within seconds. Tristana popped next to him, staring back at the Queen angrily. She showed no fear as she walked near the tub, eyeing both of them in a strange way he would never forget.

"I overheard your sweet name," she explained slowly, as if savoring the moment. Shango was completely unaware of her intentions, so he stayed silent. "It's funny, how I didn't think it was you earlier. It's just that I thought you were too stupid to be a King."

Shango's lips had formed a firm line and his face was plain and empty. "You speak as if you think I would not grow up, after all these years," he said coldly. "Are you truly that naive?"

Anger flashed across Rosa's face. She was not used to be insulted, obviously, but she chose to ignore it and swallow her anger. After a few moments of silence, she spoke in a slightly aggravated tone.

"I demand an explanation," she said a little louder than normal, as if she was trying to prevail over him. "I hear you tarnished Ascendio in Myriapolis. You tried to kill that Armaldo, the Chancellor of Ionia... why did you vanish, Shango?"

"You can figure it out," Shango said and a warm, peaceful smile spreading across his face; it massively contradicted the situation, and Rosa was a bit shocked, exactly what he wanted. Let's see some emotion. Some weakness.

"The Hashashin of Ionia vanished with you... years later, you attempt to kill the Ionian Chancellor as one of them. And now..."

Her eyes widened in realization, not of his plans, but of his deeds. Shango slowly got out of the tub, his fur heavy and soaking wet. He examined the Weavile, and he could tell what she was thinking momentarily, before she spoke in a whisper.

"... you killed my father."

"If you're planning on doing anything about it," he said simply, rubbing his claws against each other and staring at her intently, "do it now."

She returned the stare, then she burst into melodic laughter. "Don't be silly. You've done me good, Shango."

Shango raised his eyebrows as she walked towards him; he sensed she was not up to anything, and she let him touch his chest seductively, stroke his fur with her cold claws up and down and looking him straight in the eye with a tricky smile. "I was a Princess. Now I'm a Queen. Things have improved for both of us, wouldn't you say? Just tell me... why did you do this?"

"Do you not know with what your father was affiliated with?"

"Being a King, I dunno."

"It's best that you don't know, then. For your safety," he added quickly under her menacing stare.

"So you are the Hashashin on a mission..." the Weavile got closer to him as she spoke, and Shango subtly brought his claws close to her torso, where he could give her a swift death if she tried to harm him.

"I'm not an Hashashin anymore," he stated, smirking at the thought. He was an Hashashin by heart, just not of these modern, corrupted Hashashin. "Why would they try to kill me if I was one of them?"

"Right. Then what are your motives?"

"The darkstar," he said again, fully determined that it was best to tell her part of the truth. Her red eyes flashed as she heard of the gem.

"So, it charmed you, when you had touched it?"

"No. Other things charm me," Shango's tricky, elusive smile appeared, and Tristana, who sat on the floor the whole time, pinched her nose and quietly pretended she was throwing up. But neither of them noticed; Shango brought his claw close to Rosa's eye and gently brought it down her cheek. A little act wouldn't harm anybody, and his charm was the best way to distract her. Rosa's cheeks slightly blushed and she looked down, suddenly having lost all of her might. She looked like a teenage girl to Shango. But she quickly snapped out of it and looked back up at him in a renewed insistence.

"Why are you attacking Ionia?" she asked, removing her hand from his chest; Shango dragged his hand off her face as well, as the touchy moment was gone. "Do you know where the darkstar is?"

"Yes, and I intend to get it back at all costs."

"The Chancellor has got it," Rosa said, her face becoming even more red, this time from anger.

"How do you know?"

"I saw him inside the palace the night the crystal vanished."

Shango realized that Jericho could have attended his marriage with Rosa as well, if he had been inside the palace the day after. How did he miss this opportunity to kill him? But his death would have been in vain. The war-plan would still be in motion, as he still needed to vanquish Ionia's allegiance with the Endarkened Ones. If the Chancellor died, another one would rise to take his place. No, he needed to destroy the evil from its root...
​

"Well, it seems like our goals align," Shango noticed. His calm smile was veiling his thoughts, warding off Rosa's anger as she looked upon it. "I propose an alliance."

She stared at him intently for a single moment, then a half smile appeared on her face, hinting Shango that she was thinking about it. She didn't have many choices, after all. To his surprise, she brought her hand on his chest once again, getting close to him after all the tension of business.

"Hmm," she dragged her claws all across his chest to his neck, and his whole body shivered under her touch; mainly under the pressure of the concentration. He would have to act faster than her if she was to try anything. But she only threw him that look many girls in Ionia had, years before.

"I had another form of alliance in mind," she whispered, but before she could do anything else, Tristana shot herself up in the air and flew in front of the Weavile's face, pushing her back.

"Back off," she exclaimed, then proceeded to hug Shango's face. "He's mine."

Rosa started laughing, looking up as she did so. "Don't bother. He's not my type."

Shango remained silent, judging it was best to keep his opinion about her to himself. He wouldn't even mention she was willing to get personal when she thought she had married a guy named Angelo. In fact, he was unable to comprehend how Rosa had failed to recognize him so far... it had been many years, indeed, but still...

Meanwhile, Tristana had filled his cheek with kisses, then sat on his shoulder playfully.

"Maybe Hector is your type," Shango suggested plainly.

"We are married, remember?"

"I am married to nobody. You are married to Angelo, Hector's brother. I do not intend to stay a King forever, you know."

Rosa slightly tilted her head, staring at him as if trying to understand the meaning of his words.

"Hector will replace me," Shango made it clear for her.

"You can't be serious," she gasped.

"I can be serious, and I choose to be right now."

"... people will recognize him! You have different eyes..."

"We will just have to take care of that."

"How? You sound like a moron, you know."

Shango kept silent for a few moments, unaffected by insults. His deep eyes were fixed on Rosa. It was impossible for her to see through them to his thinking. After some thought, he replied. "It's not worth explaining right now. You'll just have to wait and see," he enjoyed her temper rising again, "or maybe you could just ask Hector himself. And I'm sure you're gonna be grateful for the win he's brought us today, correct?"

"It's almost as though you don't want me for yourself!" Rosa shouted in a complaining manner, crossing her arms. Shango was getting tired of this conversation really quickly - even though two years parted him and Rosa age wise, the years in which he would be able to flirt with her normally had passed long ago. Females had lost their place in his mind, as he simply did not have enough time to give... Claire's death had granted him two things, which he wasn't aware of at the time: freedom to travel the world, and freedom in general. He couldn't have started a family and be the Phantom Dancer. As he realized this during the later years of his travels, he felt bad for not holding himself back from the Countess; she would be alive if he had.

"I am not in the frame of mind to answer," Shango managed to say after swimming around in these thoughts.

"You're so calm and carefree, aren't you?" she snapped. "I haven't met a bigger fool. I can't believe I didn't recognize you in Angelo. You know what, you shouldn't be so calm, Shango. I can uncover this little conspiracy of yours if I want to, at any moment."

He looked at her with green eyes flaring menacingly; he was smiling broadly, as if bemused by her. Perhaps she could sense it; her will seemed to break, he had done it again. He brought his claw to her elegant neck, leaning forward to whisper into her ear. "Let me be clear, Rosa. Should you ever dare to cross me, I won't hesitate to cut off your head myself. Kings are known to get bored of their spouses." The menacing tone in which he said those words did it for her.

He adjusted his wet leather bandage over his left arm and jumped back in the tub with the hot water. Tristana was left behind, flapping her wings about. The spirit and the Queen spent a moment staring at each other with hostility, then both went off to their way. Rosa probably went to find Hector, and Tristana sat, rubbing the hair of her beloved... friend.

 

[Nolafus]

Into a rich house of the city they were led, where Shango requested they left them alone;

You should replace "left" with "leave".

"... you killed my father."

Dun dun duuuuuun! Sorry, I couldn't resist.

So the assassination attempt failed and another twist is thrown into the plot. The story has progressed pretty seriously for quite some time now and I don't think it would be a bad idea to include a more light-hearted chapter. One that doesn't necessarily progress on the plot, but rather make the reader smile and keeps the story interesting. Although this is clearly well thought out and a very serious story, it can get a tad dull if one is reading this as a whole, instead of one chapter at a time. Just to mix things up and add a new spice in there, if that makes sense. the story would still be great without it, but just thought I would put the idea out there.

I am already starting to like that Charlie guy. For some reason I can't exactly pinpoint, I've already decided that I like him, which is probably a bad thing for poor Charlie. Normally, whenever I start to like a character, that character dies shortly after, so Charlie is now, probably, cursed.

Have you already written these chapters out? I ask that because it seems that you are putting out these chapters far faster than I would be able to. Once again, you have written a chapter that makes the story a bit more interesting and adds to the suspense. Good job and I look forward to the next update.

 

[Ray Maverick]

You should replace "left" with "leave".

Dun dun duuuuuun! Sorry, I couldn't resist.

So the assassination attempt failed and another twist is thrown into the plot. The story has progressed pretty seriously for quite some time now and I don't think it would be a bad idea to include a more light-hearted chapter. One that doesn't necessarily progress on the plot, but rather make the reader smile and keeps the story interesting. Although this is clearly well thought out and a very serious story, it can get a tad dull if one is reading this as a whole, instead of one chapter at a time. Just to mix things up and add a new spice in there, if that makes sense. the story would still be great without it, but just thought I would put the idea out there.

I am already starting to like that Charlie guy. For some reason I can't exactly pinpoint, I've already decided that I like him, which is probably a bad thing for poor Charlie. Normally, whenever I start to like a character, that character dies shortly after, so Charlie is now, probably, cursed.

Have you already written these chapters out? I ask that because it seems that you are putting out these chapters far faster than I would be able to. Once again, you have written a chapter that makes the story a bit more interesting and adds to the suspense. Good job and I look forward to the next update.

Charlie is mostly a supportive character, though I like him too and wish I could involve him more. And this is no Game of Thrones, so things don't quite work like that xD To answer your question, yes, I've finished this fic months ago, but I didn't feel like posting it until now. Though it was disorganized and a few chapters were missing (I skipped them), so some of the things I write are fresh. The following chapter is a mixture of fresh stuff and a flashback from an old thing I'd written. I give this as a small break from the action and a little more thought into the backstory, as requested.

Chapter 8: Love in a Dream

"Cola juice," Hector raised his cup. "What an invention, eh?" he rasped, emptying it at once. Shango was leaning over the table, with his claws still grasping the hilt of his glass, looking outside the window. It was but a small break from all the drinking.

"It's addictive, this cola berry," he said, pouring the contents of his cup into his mouth. He kept it in there for a moment, savoring the sweet taste. Feeling groggy, he reached for the cask on the table; he'd requested a whole barrel to be brought, so he could celebrate the Hesperian victory against the Ionians with his brother. Hector, as one of the Generals, had taken it upon himself; he even had forgotten that Charlie Addams had taken part in it.

So, he only kept talking about that, drunken on power and cola, lusting for glory and recognition. He was now retelling the events of those days he was out on the field, crushing the Ionians like little bugs and chasing them in their own forest. They were all afraid of General Hector's might, now, apparently... Shango didn't question that. He knew what his 'brother' was capable of in the battlefield, but he had no taste for stories made of his airy head.

Shango raised his hand dismissively, drunkenly, to stop Hector from talking and blocked a burp that rose to his throat. They looked at each other in the eye from across the table. Hector suddenly leaned back on his chair, putting his feet on the table next to the cask. He had one of those 'remember when' slick expressions.

"Remember when we were after the same girl? Back then, when we were kids?"

Six years ago. Shango wouldn't say he was a kid then. Hector surely was... he nodded slowly, his green eyes watering. "Yes," he whispered.

"The Countess Claire," Hector grunted, barking out raspy laughter. "What a fine lady, eh?"

Shango nodded again, silent, drinking another cup. He could feel Hector's stare. "What happened with you two?" the other Zangoose asked him. "You never told us."

Shango was too drunk to manage to stop himself from talking. Tears were dripping on his furry white cheeks. "I," he started, his lips trembling, unable to look at Hector. "She knew everything. About our cause, about who we were, about who our enemies were. She manipulated the Count to tell her everything... she was involved in all this mess... and now, she's gone." Throwing his cup aside, it rolled on the stone floor. Shango threw himself on the table and started crying for real. His chest shook with sobs, but he was silent. Crisis like these took him over from time to time, and they were all about the Countess. "She's gone," he whispered to Hector, who was frowning.

"Chill out, man, you didn't know her for long..."

"When I first saw her, it felt like I'd always known her." Shango tried to compose himself. He rose from the table to look at Hector, who was still casually leaning back on his chair. He didn't understand... Hector's way of thinking was his primal instincts. He went after any pretty female he saw. Shango was more sentient... more sentimental. He knew the Countess was special the moment he first saw her, singing in that festival and dancing around him. She knew he was the one, too, but she hadn't realized it.

She was playing with both Zangooses for a long time. Shango and Hector were enemies, then, and although Hector never knew, Shango would have killed him if the Countess had ever chosen him.

"I need to rest," Shango declared, his hazy glare fixed on Hector. "Go sleep with Rosa. I'll just lay here."

"Really?" Hector seemed to be surprised.

"Go, get out."

***

They were at Claire's villa, sitting on one of the many living rooms. The Count was apparently away; only the Chandelure that served as a butler seemed to be in the house. Claire was sitting gracefully on a huge red cushion, and Shango on a blue one. He was feeling uneasy at first; the Countess' home didn't seem welcoming, at least this part of it. And the scratches he had suffered last night were aching him, not to mention his cloak was slightly ripped on these areas. It bothered him insanely, it seemed as if he had defiled the sacred cloak by allowing his enemies to damage it. Claire seemed to notice his uneasiness; that's why she had sent the Chandelure to go find some wet towels and sewing equipment. Shango was forced to remove his cloak and give it to the ghost in order to fix it; he felt helpless without it, and the feeling was intensified with Tristana's absence.

It didn't really matter, any of it. Now he was taking the day off, and he was close to his sweet Countess.

Shango was now looking at the form of the beautiful Ninetails, wondering what she was thinking. Her enticing smell was tickling Shango's nostrils; he moved his cushion a little closer in order to get a better whiff. She was looking upwards, as if posing. She sure liked being looked at.

"Is the Hashashin spying on me?" she asked, a playful expression on her face as she looked at him sideways.

Shango fiddled with his claws. "You're worth spying on."

"The Count is away," she said in a low voice, letting out a carefree sigh. "He will be away for some time..."

She got on her feet, Shango staring at her determined face in awe as she approached him. Her figure was massively overwhelming; she cuddled around Shango, her tails wrapped around him. They looked at each other intently, the Countess having a challenging smile on her snout. He'd swear he had a fever, his head was that hot and dizzy from the moment. His heart rose in his chest. He ran his claws through her soft fur and looked deep inside her dazzling red eyes.

"You look gorgeous, Claire," he whispered, unable to hold his comment back. All this time, he was trying to compose himself of giving the Countess too much, as she was already aware of what she was, but he had to be honest with her.

"Really?" she asked, blinking her eyes in a cute manner; but she knew already. Shango dared to stroke her neck's fur, and she let him. That was a step, after all this time.

"Mhm. It's such a waste that you have married Desmondius..." he whispered, bearing a dangerous, menacing smile that was identical to Claire's.

"Ah, but he will be dead, soon..."

Claire put her head on his shoulder and sniffed on his neck; he ran his two claws through her mane again, from her head to the base of her tails, causing her goosebumps. She giggled and they looked at each other again; Shango thought it was great, planning the murder of her husband. The Count... he was with the Endarkened Ones. If he died, the Phantom Dancer would have hit two Pidgeys with one stone.

Claire had drawn him to a far away land, this land where morals didn't matter. He would make her his through any means he could use, claim her by sending the Count to the Purgatory or wherever it was Gengars went to. It seemed like an exquisite trade, and he was able to tell that was exactly what Claire was thinking of. Great lust filled him as he looked into her, driving him into a storm of emotions suppressed for a long time.

"Until and after then..." he whispered, kissing her neck, descending on to the mane on her chest...

"... we shall be together," she completed his phrase, closing her eyes and letting out a small sigh, letting herself drift off to the tempest of love. ​

 

[Nolafus]

He was no retelling the events of those days he was out on the field,

I think you missed the "w" on "now".

He'd swear he had fever, his head was that hot and dizzy from the moment.

He had a fever?

Ooh, a nice chapter indeed. I'm glad you decided to add this in, because it's really refreshing and an enjoyable chapter. Just how many girls will fall in love with Shango? The world might never know. It's a relatively short chapter, but I feel that it's just the length it needed to be. It didn't drag on, didn't get dry, and we learned Shango has a heart, somewhere deep, deep down. I don't have any complaints and/or suggestions this time around, besides grammar.

The following chapter is a mixture of fresh stuff and a flashback from an old thing I'd written. I give this as a small break from the action and a little more thought into the backstory, as requested.

I'm glad my feedback is being accepted. :D

 

[Ray Maverick]

Chapter 9: Tylor Grubas

​

The end of the week found Shango in the big tent of the military camp. He was surrounded by the soldiers of Charlie Addams' elite crew. Hector was standing next to him. In front of him, there was a table with the map of Acheloos lake spread on it; various locations were marked red with different symbols. On the southern side of the lake, there was a big X where the Fort Stone was. About the northwest end of the lake was an O indicating the second and last camp that protected Ionia; a T was used to symbolize Telaar, the town east of the lake, and a N for the strategic location of an island near Ionia. The city itself was symbolized with a big I, on the north shore of the lake; it was divided in the middle by the Acheloos river that was descending from the north. Shango was now receiving a report from Hector, who had led a successful attack on the forest, overcoming the scouts of the Verdict. Who would've thought he was good at this job? Or perhaps he was just a good hunter...

"As much as we'd love to," Hector was saying, "we can't attack Camp Leaf," he pointed at the O on the map with his claw. "The town," he continued, dragging his claw to the T on the east side, "is a good ally of Ionia that will provide reinforcements."

"Your Grace," Charlie spoke, looking at Shango who was still staring intently at the map, "Telaar has established trade routes through the lake. They own these giant ships they call frigates that could be proven deadly from the water if we decide to assault the camp or Ionia. They have an entire fleet of these frigates that we are unable to disable."

Shango took a deep breath and looked at the Nidoking before him. "Do you know how to sail a ship, General?"

"With the right crew, I do know how."

He had thought so; Charlie Addams was a notorious leader of the Nautactus Republic once, the government of the pirates friendly to the Empire - he surely knew how to sail a ship. The problem was, there was no Hesperian ship in the lake. Shango's train of thoughts was followed by everyone in the tent. Silence ensued for a few seconds, then Charlie spoke.

"I'm familiar with somebody that's more than able to aid us, my King," he said.

"Then bring him to me at once," Shango ordered, now taking his gaze away from the General and onto the map. Charlie quickly headed over to the guard closest to the entrance; meanwhile, Hector had started talking again.

"I'm not a naval genius, Angelo," he said, having his black eyes fixed on the island near Ionia, "but it's clear that if we conquer this island and move our center of operations there..."

"Launching an attack from this camp here," Shango interrupted him, pointing at the O, "straight at I," then dragged his claw to the I, "while attacking by water... Ionia will be ended," he finished, his eyes glowing darkly. Charlie, who had returned to the scene, spoke again.

"It is evident that we destroy the camp and Telaar's reinforcements," he reminded them. "But it is impossible to reach the camp - this time, the Verdict is prepared. As far as I know, Seekers have prepared many tricks in the forests."

They have, Shango confirmed, thinking of all the traps, ambushes, as well as the advanced battle tactics they would use in the forest. The heavy, slow army of Hesperia would be having trouble if they confronted them in the forest.

"An attack on the camp will not suffice," Charlie said in a serious tone, "their active naval forces are all docked there - if we disable those before setting out on an attack on both frontiers of the camp, we will surely conquer it."

"Beautifully," Shango commented, repeating the plan in his mind. "Primarily, we will attack Telaar and request their neutrality in this war, after we make sure they can do nothing about it anymore."

Shango caught Hector's devilish smile with the edge of his sight. They always concurred in their tactics. "Then," Shango continued, "we will disable the frigates under Fort Leaf's control. After that is dealth with, we will claim this island for our own. Then, we attack Ionia from both ends."

"Brilliant, Your Grace," Charlie commented. "I will make preparations at once. Our guest will arrive shortly, I presume. Our teleporters will take care of that."

Shango nodded, dismissing all of them. Charlie walked off the tent with the rest of his crew; only two remained, two who were under Hector's command. They stood guard in the entrance, while Shango sat down his chair, Hector by his side.

"What do you think of all this?" Shango asked him quietly.

"The end is near. They will soon have one less hideout," he replied, meaning the Endarkened Ones. "Their meetings will be reduced. Things will be hard for them in a while. We'll be able to track them down more easily and kill them."

"Especially with Jericho out of the way."

"And Sigmund Blados. Don't forget about him."

"Of course. What's the situation with the Illinkar tribes? Is Zorthan after Ingvar?"

"Yes. He is still traveling to the north."

"Give him some instructions, lest he kill himself."

"He'll be fine, mate... I mean, Your Grace." There was a fine note of sarcasm on Hector's voice, but Shango ignored it.

"The success of the mission he took on was a long shot right from the start, I've told you and Zaunix."

"Maybe, but it couldn't wait."

"That is exactly why I gave you my consent."


***


The guest Charlie Addams had promised arrived two days later, with two additional Pokemon in the package. The Kirlia teleporters said they wasted too much time on trying to find them. According to the General, they are a pirate crew that is known for hunting treasures in the southern sea zone; the captain of the crew was apparently playing card games in the local tavern when they found him and the rest of his crew (who reportedly had secured the exits) and teleported him all the way to Hesperia with teleportation gems. The said captain actually thanked them mockingly, claiming that they saved him from the wrath of the pirates who were constantly losing to him in gambling games.

They were brought in the King's tent in the camp, along with twenty guards; Shango was sitting on his golden chair quietly once they entered. He threw quick looks at the three Pokemon in front of them, examining them; in the middle, there was a Sableye with a big crystal on his chest and a diamond necklace that was sure worth a fortune. Shango knew nothing of Sableyes, as they were not common in these lands, so he judged the man by his appearance: he seemed shady, that was for sure; though his mocking, teeth-revealing grin was indicating his playfulness. However, he felt as if something was quite wrong with him. He was able to detect some kind of spiritual power that was coming from him, and it had nothing to do with him being a ghost.

Aside from him, a giant of a Feraligatr with a black tricorne hat over his red fins and a white dress uniform jacket with blue lining, a belt around his large gut that was full of pouches and small bags. It also had a strange tool sheathed on a hatch resting on the side, known as flintlock pistol in our world, but it seemed to be very old. From the other side of the belt, a rusty machete was hanging down, touching the ground slightly. Leather boots were engulfing his heavy feet; above them, strange symbols were carved onto his belly, unlike anything Shango had ever seen. The Pokemon was grinning as well, but in a more threatening way than the captain, strangely; his red eyes proclaimed nothing good, but Shango was sure he would come along.

And finally, in the back, a Machop was standing half hidden by the Feraligatr's size. He was wearing a black band with a symbol around his head; a Charmeleon's head with a dagger brought downwards on it, and two words which Shango was unable to read from the distance. The Pokemon also wore a belt with two knives and a pouch. From his neck, an everstone was hanging; he seemed to be quite afraid, his expression let Shango know so. Maybe he wasn't the brave one of the group. None of them was older than him, he thought.

Once he took a good look at them, he turned to the soldiers behind them. "Where's General Addams?" he barked.

"He apologises," said one of the men, "but he cannot attend. He ordered me to tell you he will be at the docks, if it is absolutely necessary..." his tone was quite worried, as he knew full well that a King can be irritated, and heads were chopped off when Kings were irritated. But Shango knew the reason to why Charlie was in the newly constructed docks: he was building a ship, along with some carpenters. Shango simply nodded, sending all of them away. Two of them remained behind to guard the entrance of the tent.

"Your names," Shango requested without looking at them.

"Now wait just a sec," the Sableye said, adopting a rather insulted expression that seemed fake as it came out of nowhere. "You called us here to ask for our names?!"

The Feraligatr behind him let out a chuckle at first, then they all begun laughing at the same time, even the Machop; they suddenly lost their might in Shango's eyes. They now seemed like friendly pirates who were into it only for the funsies. He shut his eyes, patiently waiting for them to stop. When they did, he looked at them in the same serious, intense manner.

"Your names," Shango repeated. The Sableye captain exchanged a look with the Feraligatr behind him, then they looked at him again.

"A'ight," the captain chuckled, "Tylor Grubas, at your services," he said, bowing deeply and mockingly. The nerve of this guy. When he looked at Shango again, his grin had returned. "The Machop's name is Thomas!"

"Thomas Fallows, sir, King," the small Pokemon said hurriedly, quickly as if he wasn't used to talking much. He then bowed deeply, like Tylor, but the Feraligatr turned and landed his chop on his head.

"Tommie ye idiot, let th' cap'n bow as he knows, ye look like a frighten'd lass!"

"S-sorry," the Machop stuttered.

"This," Tylor said, pointing at the enormous Pokemon, "is Nautilus. 'xcuse him for the inappropriate... slur of his attitude. Oh!" he suddenly shouted, as if he had just remembered. His eyes got passed Shango, fixed on something behind him; he glanced back, but there was nothing there.

"Of course slur was the correct noun!" he said, mildly irritated. Shango looked at him astonished.

"Who are you talking t--"

"Never mind, you!" Tylor Grubas shouted, his eyes focused on him again. Shango slightly shook his head, deciding to get to the point before he started loosing it.

"Would you serve us in the war against Ionia?" he asked bluntly, knowing there was no negative answer they could give. Their captain started crackling with laughter, and Nautilus behind him chuckled.

"D'ya hear that, cap'n?!"

"I heard that just fine! Ho ho, this is so rich!" he exclaimed, his wicked grin dancing on his ghostly face. "Let's see... Hesperia asks the pirates for a favour! That's one for us and zero for you, in terms of parley!"

"Paaarrrley," Nautilus and Thomas shouted and bursted into laughter.

"I don't ask," Shango yelled, slamming his tightened fist on the steel table in front of him and silencing them. "I demand."

"Get a load of this, he's demanding!" Tylor shouted back at him, but he was looking above his shoulder again. Shango was close to losing his patience with them.

"Umm, captain?" Thomas nudged the Sableye's shoulder. Shango got up from his seat, making them fall silent.

"I repeat," he announced in a tone as calm as he could, "would you serve Hesperia in the war against Ionia?"

Tylor finally gave it some thought. "Well," he started saying in a slightly awkward look, "it kinda depends..."

"On?"

"Our payment."

"Your payment?"

"Our payment," Nautilus demanded. Even Thomas was getting more brave, as he walked besides his captain.

"Fine," said Shango, as to be rid of them as soon as possible.

"Hold on, this guy's got an awesome idea," Tylor said, again looking in the air. Then he turned back to Shango. "And a memorial statue for our services," he quickly added, then turned back to his crew. "How 'bout that, guys?"

"That is, if you die," Shango said threateningly, quelling their laughter.

"What's in it fer us, Crownie?" the Feraligatr asked him; he assumed he made a referance to the Crown.

"Two hundred golden bars," Shango said, knowing this offer would surely be likeable; indeed, he saw the Sableye's diamond eyes flash, but not with greed exactly.

"Deal!" Thomas the machop shouted immediately, only to receive another chop in the head by Nautilus.

"Shush yer mouth!"

Tylor rubbed his wrists. "Two hundred 'n fifty, with complimentary pretty gems."

"Fine, fine," Shango said impatiently, waving his hand.

"And what is it that you want from us?" Thomas asked in a mildly worried tone.

"We are making a ship for you to sail the lake with some of our soldiers."

"What kind of ship are we talkin' about?" Tylor asked him, looking down at his curly claws.

"A schooner, armed with hatches and tristanite hull armor shell."

"Wow!" Thomas exclaimed. Tylor quickly turned to his crew and they conversed in low voices. When he looked back at him, he seemed cheerful.

"Provided you let us keep the ship, we'll do anything you want!" he shouted. "Oh and name it Hollow's End, like our old ship..."

"That will be taken care of," Shango said with a relieved smile on his face. He sat down and waved his hand, sending them away as he leaned back, analyzing the information of the past scene.

 

[Nolafus]

About the northwest of the lake was an O indicating the second and last camp that protected Ionia;

It seems there's something missing at the beginning of the sentence. You seem to be referencing to a specific spot, but never say which spot. Maybe put "end" after "northwest"? I think that might be what you were going for.

Alright, we start to prepare for the final stretch of the war. I like how you have Shango rely on help, instead of having him absolutely destroy everything himself. However, I'm having concerns that Shango might be too much of a "godly" character where everything goes right for him. I wouldn't say that's an issue yet, but just thought I would put the idea out there. Overall, a good setup chapter. The stage is set and I can feel an intense battle on the horizon. I'm looking forward to future updates and the ensuing battle.

 

[Ray Maverick]

Chapter 10: Rocks with Hands
​

The Hollow's End was floating close to the coast of the peaceful lake, its sails folded. In the eyes of Hesperia, it was an incredibly large ship. To Ionia, and to Shango to some extent, it seemed small, compared to the giant frigates the city used to travel across the lake. This ship was the only ship owned by the Empire right now; as the Navy was outcast from the southern seas centuries ago by the Nautactus Republic. The pirates of the republic, having a closer bond with the sea than Hesperians, managed to win the Shell War by recruiting the wild creatures of the sea to their cause. The ships of the Empire had no chance against the giant Wailords that crushed them when they dared wandering in deep waters, and on top of that, the myriads of Cloysters that were flung againist them from the sea bottom. But what truly had helped the Republic win this war were the achievements of Gale Stanwix - the pirate captain that became a legend after four consecutive wins against the Navy; legend and folklore claims that this Kingler had the Guardian of the Sea to his side, and that why the wind, waves and thunderstorms always favored him.

This was the story Captain Tylor Grubas was telling to the soldiers in the Operations Center that was moved to the top of the burnt hill, where Fort Stone was once. The Generals smirked in irritation and the King frowned upon Charlie Addams, as if saying bringing someone like Grubas for the job wasn't such a good idea. His General looked at him apologetically, and Shango took away his gaze.

There was nothing else left to discuss. With a motion of his hand, every Pokemon exited the small wooden house and headed towards the cliff facing the lake.

A month had passed since the beginning of the Hollow's End construction, a month full of painful losses for the Hesperian Empire. Despite their preponderance, the army was unable to counter the Needlers of the Verdict who pierced through their lines like cruise missiles, breaking their formation and scattering them around. Both of the Generals, along with the King, were quietly blamed for not having taken the Verdict's tactics into account.

Today was the day they launched the surprise assault on Telaar village. Their schooner awaited for them, anchored close to the cliff; its two sails were painted orange by the sun setting down the clouds on the horizon. The Hollow's End was a proud ship with its hull reinforced with the glittering tristanite. It had two masts, the front one significantly shorter.

As they stood on top of the hill, the waters of the lake way below them, their eyes were about the same height of the Hesperian flag (the Swellow's wings) on top of the rear mast, racing with the wind. Around its pole, a tight cord was tied, lining all the way towards the cliff to another pole with the flag, as to connect the ship with the camp. The pirates could easily climb on and off the ship by hanging from the rope... well, that excluded Nautilus, who would be forced to swim, as he was too heavy for the rope. The Feraligatr looked down upon the waters of Acheloos lake, leaning over the edge of the cliff.

"Ho, cap'n," he shouted, "them waters don' seem salty..."

"How does this thing float?!" Thomas blurted the question out. General Addams, who was the friendliest towards the pirates from them all, granted the simple answer.

"Of course they are salty... the sea is at least four hundred miles away, but the waters of this lake are salty."

"Oi, then," Nautilus scratched his belly; Shango's eyes were drawn from the yonder to the strange markings on the Feraligatr's gut. He had definitely seen those markings before, but he couldn't remember where...

"Catch ya on board, cap'n," the pirate said and lept off the cliff with incredible, unexpected agility. Shango observed the way the massive Pokemon fell, and judging by the fact that he dove down the water like a rocket, he concluded that the Pokemon was a skilled sailor and swimmer, if not a fearsome fighter.

"Argh!" Tylor shouted, pulling imaginary hair from his head and looking at the Feraligatr who was climbing on Hollow's End. "Madman! What of the plans?!"

Madman seemed to be some kind of nickname, because Nautilus turned to face his captain and he wasn't even insulted. "Wot plans?" he shouted back, his voice echoing in the face of the cliff back on the open lake.

"Just forget about it," Thomas said and rolled his eyes. Shango caught the Sableye acting strangely again: he was looking at somewhere, where there was nobody and nothing to look at. He started wondering if the man was seeing things, or worse, talking to them.

"Yes, you're right!" Tylor shouted, and he was surely not talking to his mate Thomas behind him.

The captain faced Shango then, half surprised, half disturbed. "If we're in for some naval warfare, three of us ain't gonna suffice!"

"Don't fret--" General Addams begun, but he was cut out by Nautilus' shout.

"Cap'n, there's rocks belowdecks!"

"Rocks?! What'd you mean, rocks?!" Tylor turned to Shango. "If this is some kind of joke..." he started saying, adopting a threatening look that momentarily made him look scary. "It'd be a darn good one," he added and crackled with laughter together with his mate; it continued until Thomas was rolling on the ground, and Tylor was clutching his knees, his sapphire eyes watered in tears.

"Scratch that, cap'n," Nautilus was heard again before anyone could explain properly to them. "These're Pokemon! Big, round Pokemon! Wit' hands!"

"I gotta see for myself," Tylor said, but before he could jump onto the rope, Shango extended his right arm to grab his shoulder; it was an unfortunate moment, because the way he grasped him looked hostile and the Sableye was shot up the air, startled, barely landing on the cliff. When he turned to look at Shango, his eyes flashed strangely, and his face had become plain as if he was going through some thought. Perhaps the ghost had felt something.

"Curious," he commented, "most curious, my King."

Shango kept a straight face as usual and observed him, trying to understand the meaning of this. Tylor was a ghost, ghosts had a better understanding of spiritual powers as they were one themselves; Shango glanced at his right arm, which was aching him constantly the past few days. Memories flooded his mind, these of the darkstar merging with it, becoming the liquid darkness that filled his whole body with unbelievable amount of power and ambition. A realization was coming closer to his veiled mind, which emerged abruptly and hit him like a tidal wave: the voidborns surely weren't the only ones who knew of the darkstar. Tylor, being a booty pirate, was bound to know every single legend of a treasure that was spread around from at least the beginning of time - these people were artisans of treasure hunting.

Another fact, well hidden in his memory emerged quickly to follow the first realization: one of the Endarkened Ones was a pirate. Angstrom, the Heil of the Axe was the leader of the real pirates, the ones who sacked towns and attacked ships of the mere scavengers of the sea those who were calling themselves 'pirates' as an honorary term. Tylor, being one of the latter as Charlie Addams informed him, would have had quarrel with Angstrom... Shango felt the need to introduce the Phantom Dancer to his newfound pirate friends, as they could prove extremely useful allies when he decided to confront the pirate leader.

I will, some day, become a pirate myself, and hunt down Angstrom in his own field.

General Addams interrupted Shango's thoughts.

"We have armed the ship with the best crew of mountain Gravellers and Geodudes we could find," he said with a generous smile that did not fit a General of the Hesperian army. He now seemed more like the Nidoking of the Nautactus Republic Shango had seen in paintings... a pirate himself. Of course, Charlie Addams was a pirate too, once.

"Gravellers fling Geodudes, who explode on impact," Hector said and chuckled, "man, I'd love to see them going boom!"

Tylor looked at him intently, with a big smile on his shadowy face. "I'm starting to like this guy! We do share the same opinion for explosives! I'm sure he'd like a cruise with our cruiser. Hah!"

"No," Shango said abruptly. "He has a position to keep."

Grubas stared at him, possibly trying to determine if Shango was being evil or strict.

"Cap'n!" Nautilus was heard again. Tylor motioned to Thomas to go away, and the Machop grabbed hold of the rope and started his way towards the Hollow's End above the water. Shango didn't quite know why he dismissed him like that, but he could only guess. It had something to do with the ship.

"What's the plan, anyway?" the Sableye asked them.

"There's a town nearby, which favors Ionia," Charlie spoke. "We want you to destroy the ships on its docks."

"How many of 'em?"

"Must be three ships, three frigates of the same kind."

Tylor turned his back to them to look at his new ship and scratched his chin. "They'll know of Hollow's End," he said finally, pointing down at his new ship. "It's been here for a few days, so these guys will know they got competition."

"No, they don't know a thing," Hector said, "the area's camouflaged by our psychics."

"Awesome! Skill, right there, I'm lovin' it!"

"Got any questions, captain?" Shango asked him in a serious tone.

"I've got a question for you," Tylor said, turning to face him. "Why is it that you always wear armor?"

"I don't always wear armor," was Shango's tricky answer. Hector got the implication of his armor being nothing but temporary and grinned. "Alright then, is that it?"

"Yup. Just give me the signal, mate."

Shango thought it was ridiculous, being called 'mate' when three of the most important Pokemon of the Empire were present, including himself. But he disregarded that; he would eventually get friendly with the captain. He didn't seem so bad after all, and the anger his crew had caused him was mainly because of the pressure and tension of the past months. The Sableye jumped on the rope and quickly left the cliff to land on his ship softly.

Shango looked over at the Nidoking. "General Addams," he said, "be kind and leave us alone for a bit."

"As you wish, my King," Charlie said and departed. Shango grabbed Hector's hand, squeezing it and looking at him with the pupils of his large eyes dilated.

"Tylor knows about the darkstar," he said bluntly. "I don't know how, but he does."

"He could prove useful," Hector whispered, reminding Shango of when they had gone hunting together ages ago - he would whisper in that exact tone when he sensed they were getting close to their prey.

"Indeed."

"I don't trust 'em just yet... why don't you talk to them as the Phantom Dancer?"

"That's what I was thinking. I intend to board the Hollow's End to Telaar. I cannot make sure everything is properly done as King Angelo."

"I see what you mean... where's Rosa, by the way?" Hector asked him, looking down in pretended indifference. But Shango knew this man was never shy; he simply didn't want Shango to determine his thoughts by his expression, as he usually did.

"Rosa's off to the capital."

The other Zangoose shot his head up to stare at him. "Why?! I mean... yeah, one trouble outta the way... right?"

Shango laughed heartily and patted his friend's shoulder. "You're in love, brother. Love means trouble alright, but it's not out of the way just yet, is it?"

"Hmm..." Hector was smiling greatly, not a devilish kind of smile but a cheerful one. "Of course not. Haven't we vowed to never give up?"

Their claws made a steel sound as they were crushed against each other in a bro fist. The first time Shango had seen Hector in the forest outside Myriapolis, he'd never imagine that they two get to be that close, mainly because of Hector's disruptive and aggressive attitude. But somehow, their connection as voidborns helped their bond, and as much as their personalities were different, they did make a match after all. Besides, he seemed so identical to him, logic wise... In their minds, the grand plan of the voidborn was brought: Hector replacing Shango in the role of the King of Hesperia, always on the side of the voidborns, promoting their plans and ensuring their victories over the Endarkened Ones; a whole Empire would be under their command, so easily done.

 

[Nolafus]

Alright, I'll take back my statement about Shango possibly being a "godly" character. I like how you included that their armies aren't faring so well. An interesting chapter that leaves more questions than answers, but that's a good thing, in this case. Everything is making sense and I'm not having any problems cluing in on what's going on. I would get to the battle soon, as I'm not sure how many more chapters I can wait.

 

[Ray Maverick]

Chapter 11: Midnight Heat

​

The Hollow's End was floating close to the coast of the peaceful lake; in the eyes of Hesperia, it was an incredibly large ship. To Ionia, and to Shango to some extent, it seemed relatively small, compared to the giant frigates the city used to travel across the lake. This ship was the only ship owned by the Empire right now; as the Navy was outcast by the southern seas centuries ago by the Nautactus Republic. The pirates of the republic, having a closer bond with the sea than Hesperians, managed to win the Shell War by recruiting the wild creatures of the sea to their cause. The ships of the Empire had no chance against the giant Wailords that crushed them when they dared wandering in deep waters, and on top of that, the myriads of Cloysters that were flung againist them from the sea bottom. But what truly had helped the Republic win this war were the achievements of Gale Stanwix - the pirate captain that became a legend after seven consecutive wins against the Navy; legend and folklore claims that this Kingler had the Guardian of the Sea to his side, and that why the wind, waves and thunderstorms always favoured him. This was the story Captain Tylor Grubas was telling to the soldiers in the Operations Centre that was moved to the top of the burnt hill, where Fort Stone was once. The Generals smirked in irritation and the King frowned upon Charlie Addams, as if saying bringing Tylor for the job wasn't such a good idea. His General looked at him apologetically, and Shango abstructed his gaze. As Addams had promised of Tylor and his crew's success, he turned his eyes to the map on the table in front of them, then realized there was nothing else to discuss. With a motion of his hand, every Pokemon exited the small wooden house and headed towards the cliff facing the lake.

A month had passed since the beginning of the Hollow's End construction, a month full of painful losses for the Hesperian Empire. Despite their preponderance, the army was unable to counter the Needlers of the Verdict who pierced through their lines like cruise missiles, breaking their formation and scattering them around. Both of the Generals, along with the King, were quietly blamed for not having taken the Verdict's tactics into account. Shango didn't seem concerned about the unacceptable number of dead soldiers that were left behind in the battlefields, as he was utterly convinced that it was done for the sacred duty of the Phantom Dancer. Tristana constantly reminded him that even if the Endarkened Ones, leaders of all nations, were ruling, relative peace was at least preserved; to which Shango was answering, there would never be true freedom and this peace would mean nothing.

Today was the day they launched the surprise assault on Telaar village. Their schooner awaited for them, anchored close to the cliff; its two sails were painted orange by the sun setting down the clouds on the horizon. The Hollow's End was a proud ship with its hull reinforced with the glittering tristanite. It had two masts, the front one shorter; their eyes were about the same height of the Hesperian flag on top of the rear mast, racing with the wind. Around its pole, a tight cord was tied, lining all the way towards the cliff to another pole with the flag. The pirates could easily climb on and off the ship by hanging from the rope... well, that excluded Nautilus, who would be forced to swim. The Feraligatr looked down upon the waters of Acheloos lake, leaning over the edge of the cliff.

"Yo, cap'n," he shouted, "them waters don' seem salty..."

"How does this thing float?!" Thomas blurted the question out. General Addams, who was the friendliest towards the pirates from them all, granted the simple answer.

"Of course they are salty... it isn't known how, but they are salty."

"Oi, then," Nautilus scratched his belly; Shango's eyes were drawn from the yonder to the strange markings. He had definitely seen those markings before, but he couldn't remember where... "Catch ya on board, cap'n," the pirate said and lept off the cliff with incredible, unexpectable agility. Shango observed the way the massive Pokemon fell, and judging by the fact that he dove down the water like a rocket, he concluded that the Pokemon was a skilled sailor and swimmer, if not a fearsome fighter.

"Argh!" Tylor shouted, pulling imaginary hair from his head and looking at the Feraligatr who was climbing on Hollow's End. "Madman! What of the plans?!"

Madman seemed to be some kind of nickname, because Nautilus turned to face his captain and he wasn't even insulted. "Wot plans?" he shouted back, his voice echoing in the face of the cliff back on the open lake.

"Just forget about it," Thomas said and rolled his eyes. Shango caught the Sableye acting strangely again: he was looking at somewhere, where there was nobody and nothing to look at. He started wondering if the man was seeing things, or worse, talking to them.

"Yes, you're right!" Tylor shouted, and he was surely not talking to his mate Thomas behind him. The captain faced him, half surprised, half disturbed. "If we're in for some naval warfare, three of us ain't gonna suffice!"

"Fear not--" General Addams begun, but he was cut out by Nautilus' shout.

"Cap'n, there's rocks belowdecks!"

"Rocks?! What'd you mean, rocks?!" Tylor turned to Shango. "If this is some kind of joke..." he started saying, adopting a threatening look that momentarily made him look scary. "It'd be a darn good one," he added and crackled with laughter together with his mate; it continued until Thomas was rolling on the ground, and Tylor was clutching his knees.

"Scratch that, cap'n," Nautilus was heard again before anyone could explain properly to them. "These're Pokemon! Big, round Pokemon! Wit' hands!"

"I gotta see for myself," Tylor said, but before he could jump onto the rope, Shango extended his right arm to grab his shoulder; it was an unfortunate moment, because the way he grasped him looked hostile and the Sableye was shot up the air, barely landing on the cliff. When he turned to look at Shango, his eyes flashed strangely, and his face had become plain as if he was going through intense thought.

"Curious," he commented, "most curious, my King."

Shango kept a straight face as usual and observed him, trying to understand the meaning of this. Tylor was a ghost, ghosts had a better understanding of spiritual powers as they were one themselves; Shango glanced at his right arm, which was aching him constantly the past few days. Memories flooded his mind, these of the darkstar merging with it, becoming the liquid darkness that filled his whole body with unbelievable amount of power and ambition. A realization was coming closer to his veiled mind, which emerged abruptly and hit him like a tidal wave: the voidborns surely weren't the only ones who knew of the darkstar. Tylor, being a booty pirate, was bound to know every single legend of a treasure that was spread around from at least the beginning of time - these people were artisans of treasure hunting. Another fact, well hidden in his memory emerged quickly to follow the first realization: one of the Endarkened Ones was a pirate. Angstrom, the Heil of the Axe was the leader of the real pirates, the ones who raided towns and attacked ships of the scavengers of the sea those who were calling themselves 'pirates' as an honorary term. Tylor, being one of the latter as Charlie Addams informed him, would have had quarrel with Angstrom... Shango felt the need to introduce the Phantom Dancer to his newfound pirate friends, as they could prove extremely useful allies when he decided to confront the pirate leader. He would do that sooner or later, his time would come.

General Addams interrupted Shango's thoughts.

"We have armed the ship with the best crew of mountain Gravellers and Geodudes we could find," he said with a generous smile that did not fit a General of the Hesperian army. He now seemed more like the Nidoking of the Nautactus Republic Shango had seen in paintings.

"Gravellers fling Geodudes, who explode on impact," Hector said and chuckled, "man, I'd love to see them going boom!"

Tylor looked at him intently, with a big smile on his shadowy face. "I'm starting to like this guy! We share the same opinion for explosives! Can he come with us?"

"No," Shango said abruptly. "He has a position to keep."

Grubas stared at him, possibly trying to determine if Shango was being evil or strict.

"Cap'n!" Nautilus was heard again. Tylor motioned to Thomas to go away, and the Machop grabbed hold of the rope and started his way towards the Hollow's End above the water. Shango didn't quite know why he dismissed him like that, but he could only guess. It had something to do with the ship.

"What's the plan, anyway?" the Sableye asked them.

"There's a town nearby, which favours Ionia," Charlie spoke. "We want you to destroy the ships on its docks."

"How many of 'em?"

"Around three."

Tylor turned his back to them to look at his new ship and scratched his chin. "They'll know of Hollow's End," he said finally.

"No, they don't," Hector said, "the area's camouflaged by our psychics."

"Awesome!"

"Got any questions, captain?" Shango asked him in a serious tone.

"I've got a question for you," Tylor said, turning to face him. "Why is it that you always wear armor?"

"I don't always wear armor," was Shango's tricky answer. Hector got the implication of his armor being nothing but temporary and grinned. "Alright then, is that it?"

"Yup. Just give me the signal, mate."

Shango thought it was ridiculous, being called 'mate' when three of the most important Pokemon of the Empire were present, including himself. But he disregarded that; he would eventually get friendly with the captain. He didn't seem so bad after all, and the anger his crew had caused him was mainly because of the pressure and tension of the past months. The Sableye jumped on the rope and quickly left the safety of the cliff.

Shango looked over at the Nidoking. "General Addams," he said, "be as kind as to leave us alone."

"As you wish, my King," Charlie said and departed. Shango grabbed Hector's hand, squeezing it and looking at him with the pupils of his large eyes dilated.

"Tylor knows about the darkstar," he said bluntly. "I don't know how, but he does."

"He could prove useful," Hector whispered, reminding Shango of when they had gone hunting together ages ago - he would whisper in that exact tone when he sensed they were getting close to their prey.

"Indeed."

"I don't trust 'em just yet... why don't you talk to them as the Phantom Dancer?"

"That's what I was thinking. I intend to board the Hollow's End to Telaar. I cannot make sure everything is properly done as King Angelo."

"I see what you mean... where's Rosa, by the way?" Hector asked him, looking down as if he was shy. But Shango knew this man was never shy; he simply didn't want Shango to determine his thoughts by his expression, as he usually did.

"Rosa's off to the Citadel."

The Zangoose shot his head up to stare at him. "Why?! I mean... yeah, one trouble outta the way... right?"

Shango laughed heartily and patted his friend's shoulder. "You're in love, brother. Love means trouble alright, but it's not out of the way just yet, is it?"

"Hmm..." Hector was smiling greatly, not a devilish kind of smile but a cheerful one. "Of course not. Haven't we vowed to never give up?"

Their claws made a steel sound as they were crushed against each other in a bro fist. The first time Shango had seen Hector in the forest outside Myriapolis, he'd never imagine that they two get to be that close, mainly because of Hector's disruptive and agressive attitude. But somehow, their connection as voidborns helped their bond, and as much as their personalities were different, they did make a match after all. Besides, he seemed so identical to him, logic wise... In their minds, the grand plan of the voidborn was brought: Hector, the King of Hesperia, always on the side of the voidborns, promoting their plans and ensuring their victories over the Endarkened Ones; a whole Empire would be under their command, so easily done.

***

The strong wind blew through the flags of the camp and the ship, the tightened cord screeching; a beam of crimson light passed through the clouds, dyeing the area a dark, menacing red. Yet, the top of the hill seemed peaceful, even when a cape came to join the flag's dance. The Phantom Dancer ran on top of the constantly shaking cord towards the schooner in perfect balance, slightly spreading his arms like a bird. He wasn't afraid of the wind that was screaming in his ears, and his heavy boots didn't seem to hinder him at all regarding his balance on the rope. He lept on top of the mast effortlessly, grabbed hold of another rope that tied the sail to it below and dropped himself, landing quietly and with ease on the deck. It had been four years ever since he had ever been aboard a ship, and it strangely felt good; he always liked sailing, and he had done a good amount of it in his lifetime, though not frequently.

"Welcome!" Tylor's voice reached his ears and he jerked his body around to see him holding the wheel, which was laughably twice his size.

"You make perfect camouflage," Shango commented; the Sableye had stayed put right from the start, blending in with the dark, crimson light.

"Unlike you! Hah! Take one step and my mate'll get a lil' twitchy wit' the blade."

The light illuminated his steel mask as he looked besides him. The Feraligatr was towering above him, unseen until now, quiet, holding his rusty machete tightly and grinning. The perfect predator, Shango thought. Thomas bursted out of a barrel nearby, one knife in each hand. He had clearly underestimated the pirates; they did seem to be cunning and smart.

"I'm not here to fight," he said, raising his hands - it was more of an offensive move than the pirates thought. He was ready to knock the machete off Nautilis' hands, but no such need arose. He took off his mask, which vanished in the shadows and pulled down his hood.

"Lookit that!" Nautilus said loudly and chuckled. "The Crownie! Why would ye go strollin' on our new ship, mask and cloak on?"

"Clearly, I'm not who you think I am."

"Then who?" the Machop asked, confused. Shango noticed the band on his head, bearing the insignia of a Charmeleon's skull with the dagger shot downwards; the two words beneath it were Never Forget. He would later ponder on their meaning.
​

"I am the Phantom Dancer."

Tristana suddenly popped on his shoulder, and the pirates seemed to be startled by her presence. "I'm Tristana," she introduced herself and flew over to Thomas playfully, who tried to catch her. The pirates stared at her in awe, as if they had never seen anything like her before.

"Oi, cap'n, are we seein' things?"

"No, Damon can see her too..."

"Who is Damon?" Shango asked sharply, his stare fixed on Tylor. He had the slightest of ideas of who Damon would be.

"Nobody," Tylor said plainly. Meanwhile, Tristana flew around Thomas' head, who looked as if he was having a fight with himself as he tried to catch her. The sight seemed to be hilarious for Nautilus, who was cracking up in a terrible laughter.

"Anyway," the captain shouted, looking at Shango intently. "What're you doing here? And tell me what kind of name is 'Phantom Dancer'."

"All will be explained shortly, mister Tylor," he said and walked besides him. The Sableye stared at him, astonished to hear him adress him as 'mister'. Not because he wasn't, but because Shango was supposed to be a King. "For now, I want you to set course for Telaar."

"Who commands, the King or the Phantom Dancer?"

"The Phantom Dancer, with the axiom of the King."

"Ahaha! That's rich!"

"Do as I say for now."

"Wait, wait, lemme get tis straight," Nautilus said, leaning backwards on the mast with his machete now safely put in the hatchet, a teethful, shining grin spread on his face. "When ye don't wearin' armor, yer the Phantom Dancer?"

"Let's just say... yes."

Suddenly, the deck's hatch bursted open, as if by its own. A Mr. Mime climbed the stairs; when she noticed of Shango, she let out a little scream, but before she could go belowdecks again, Nautilus grasped her whole body, lifting her up in the air with his arm and preventing her escape.

"Look a' wha' crawled outta th' bunghole! Where d'ye think yer goin', lass?"

"Who is that?!" she cried, pointing at Shango, her small feet waving helplessly in the air.

"Dun worry, he's with us ye silly wench!"

As Tristana flew over to her to calm her down, Shango threw a questioning look at the captain.

"Her name's Lucy, it is. She's our trusted protector."

"'In't that right, Lucy?" Nautilus asked the Mr. Mime, scratching her cheek with his claw, his grin a bit threatening. She had now stopped waggling; Shango noticed some kind of glowing clay was hanging down her neck. A Light Clay that enhanced the Wall moves.

"Y-yes!"

"She's using psychic walls to protect Hollow's End!" Thomas explained. Shango thought about how much she would aid them - the wondrous walls were certainly a great defensive addition to the ship.

"Alright then, shall we be off?"

"Of course," said Tylor and looked at him. "Ehh... you take the wheel."

Then he threw a thunderous look at somewhere on his left, as if he was ready to beat up somebody. Shango ignored it and took the wheel in his hands. It felt just about right, handling the wheel of a ship after so many years.

"A'ight, men," Tylor shouted. "And wenches," he added, looking at over at Lucy who was playing around with Tristana. "Prepare! Nautilus, raise the darn anchor!"

Nautilus bolted off all across the deck with speed; Shango saw him pulling the chain of the anchor up, and he was about to tell him how to do it correctly when the metallic sounds stopped as the pointy tips of the heavy objects were actually brought on board.

"Thomas, cut 'em sails!"

The Machop had already rushed up the brails on the side of the mast, making his way to the ropes the sails had been tied with. Tylor turned to Lucy with a grin.

"Up to the Watch with you!"

"I'm afraid of heights..." she muttered. Both of the sails fell down and they started to catch the strong wings that were raging. Shango stirred the rudder slightly to set the ship out of the small cove the cliffs were forming around it. Nautilus lept onto the brails with ease unusual to a Pokemon his size; he went to the watch point and sat down, watching the horizon.

"Hahaha!" Tylor's loud laugh was blown around along with the wind as the ship started moving out of the cove. "Cue the sailin'!"

Shango noticed Karnos was fading, leaving them in the darkness of the night. Looking at Tristana, she nodded quite irritably, then she got engulfed by flames that lit the Hollow's End from the bow to the stern. Tylor jumped into the hatch of the deck and Lucy sat down next to a barrel with Tristana above her head. He felt the ferocious wind blow his cape forwards as it pushed the ship, helping it gain full speed; it was a feeling of freedom and liberation for Shango. He was able to forget the whole business with the King in seconds, even the thought of the war was set aside, even though they were headed straight in it.

Tylor jumped out the deck with a map in hand, and as he was headed towards Shango and the wheel, he turned his head upwards to shout, "Tom, deploy full sail!"

"Aye, captain! Full speed ahead!" The Machop had lept on the main mast, releasing secondary wings that sped the ship up greatly. Shango had soon lost sight of the land behind them, as the lake around them was engulfed in darkness. Tylor kneeled, placing the map on the deck and revealing a compass from seemingly nowhere. Shango remembered what Hector had told him about the captain, regarding playing card games - Tylor was always bound to have something up his sleeve, literally, even if he didn't have any sleeves.

"Good thing you Hesperians thought ahead when you brought us these," Tylor shouted so he could be heard through the sound of the wind; he was observing the map of Acheloos lake and adjusting his compass. "Set course for the northeast," he added.

"I'm not a Hesperian," Shango said simply, looking forward past the sails, into the black waters. He stirred the rudder towards the northeast, where Telaar was waiting for them.

"Oh? It's 'bout time you tell us what you are. I don't recall anybody callin' you Phantom Dancer."

"Do you have any knowledge of the darkstar?"

Tylor looked at him intently, still kneeling over the map. His diamond eyes were reflecting Shango, the firm line of his mouth becoming a small grin. He glanced somewhere to the right for a single moment, then returned his gaze to him.

"You're the first one I hear talkin' about it... besides Heil of the Axe, of course. Anyway... it's said to be the greatest of all treasures. Nautilus over there," Tylor said, pointing at the Feraligatr sitting on the top mast, "is called Junior Taz. D'you know who Taz was?"

"No. What does this have to--"

"Oh, the horror! He's a legend amongst us, his father! Some blab stuff 'bout him being crazy 'n all, but me thinks otherwise... rumors 'bout his will are floatin' around, boys in docks say Nautilus' got to be the richest pirate who can't claim 'is booty! Hah, but poor lad doesn't seem to care 'bout that! Who needs riches when you're having fun, eh?"

"But why can he not claim--"

"Can't find 'em."

"What is them, exactly?"

"All the gold you can imagine, locked up somewhere in Oceania! But..." his tone got more mysterious and his eyes flashed, "Taz ain't a vain Pokemon as I remember 'im. Gold wasn't the only thing that man was after." He paused, enjoying the intrigue Shango's face was showing. "Nautilus says he'd gotten something else, amongst the riches he was stealin' from the navy," he added and chuckled, but then got serious real quick, and in fact, angry. "And that amateur, Heil of the Axe is tryin'ta find ol' Taz' booty!"

"... I know Heil of the Axe. Not personally, but I know him."

"Oh! You do! And what do you know about him?"

"I know that he is going to die by my hand."

"Haha! Right! And how're you gonna do that, wonderboy?" he brought his hand to his chin and looked upwards, as if he was thinking. "Hmm. I'll call you 'Wonderboy'. I don't like your other name."

"My conviction is abundant, my friend," Shango said in an intense, yet calm manner. As for the Wonderboy nickname, he did not protest.

"If you say so. Mind you, the odds are in his favour."

"We'll see about that. Would you be willing to help me, then?"

Tylor seemed to be thinking about it. He had now stood up, stepping on the map with one foot to prevent it from being carried away from the wind.

"You'll be famous if you take him down," Shango added the honeyed words that would surely lure the captain. "I will take care of him, and you will replace him as captain of his entire fleet," he continued, the code of the pirates of Oceania brought to his mind, "what do you think about that?"

"I'm always in for some adventure, Wonderboy. 'sides, Madman's gonna be real itchy to lay 'is hands on the treasure!"

"Excellent," Shango said, thinking he would work the details out later; if he had to betray the pirates to claim the darkstar for himself, he would, but he had a feeling he wouldn't need to reach the extreme.

"But we ain't done with this lake yet," Tylor reminded him.

"Obviously."

"Say... why did you start this war?"

Shango jerked his head to look at him. He had a cunning expression with a tricky smile, which now seemed typical of his.

"How do you know this?"

Tylor shrugged. "I had a couple of drinks with that guy, Hector. We played a few games, too..." That fool, Shango thought, smirking in disappointment of his friend. Grubas was proving to be a far more worthy man that he had ever thought, even if his ways were sneaky. "Hey," Tylor shouted, as if he just remembered something, "you still haven't told us who the heck you are!"

Shango pondered on the question whether he should trust the pirate or not. Partly, was the answer, I will trust him partly. "All you need to know is that I seek the destruction of Ionia and Heil of the Axe."

Tylor slightly tilted his head, as if trying to pierce through Shango's words; a few moments passed with Shango tapping his claws on the rudder. "What're you upto, Wonderboy?"

Shango didn't have to answer, as they were interrupted by Nautilus who had jumped down the mast, landing heavily on the deck in front of them.

"Ship aheeead!"

The clouds had cleared, allowing the moon and stars to light the horizon; mountains in the far back, and a firm, dark line of forest could be seen. Higher on the eastern shore of the lake was Telaar, but according to the calculations Shango had made back in the camp, they were thirty minutes away. Yet, there was a massive frigate tearing the waves, its white sails obvious from alot of miles away. Tylor turned to stare at Shango, who ignored him.

"Tell me this is a coincidence, Wonderboy. We hadn't agreed this."

"Calm yourself, we're sinking anyone who crosses us. Any ship which sails this lake is our enemy."

The captain crossed his arms and glanced behind him, where the empty poopdeck was. Then, he went over to the hatch and bent over to look inside.

"Ahoy, ye filthy landlubbers! Man yer battlestations!" he shouted. A lot of heavy footsteps were heard from belowdecks, as the Gravellers were getting into positions; the hatches on the side of the ship would allow them to throw rocks from belowdecks. Shango motioned at Tristana, who eyed him half sternly half worriedly as she flew over to him. He left the rudder for a single moment, to put his hood back on.

"What's happening?" she asked innocently, her blue eyes expanded in worry. She couldn't see through the darkness, but she knew Shango well enough to tell that he was smiling.

"They will try to sink us. Better stay with me, dear."

Tristana sat on the rudder as he stirred it; the wind blew strongly, turning the Hollow's End towards the west. Their enemy had gotten closer now, headed straight at them; a poor battle tactic, as Shango had learned from his experience at the western seas of the Azorian Kingdom.

Under Tylor's command, seven Gravellers exited the hatch and took positions across the side of the ship that was facing the enemy. They were holding rocks, Geodudes to be precise. Nautilus and Tylor were running up and down the stairs of the hatch, bringing more of these to the deck behind each Graveller; Shango approved of Tylor for helping, even though he was the captain.

"Thomas!" Shango shouted, looking upwards at the mast, where the Machop was sitting. Thomas seemed stunned for a moment, as he stared at him, but he quickly got over it.

"Your orders?"

"Cut that full sail!"

"Right away," Thomas shouted. Nautilus had set the Mr. Mime behind the mast, telling her to keep focused on creating the wondrous wall to protect them from the enemy fire; though she didn't seem up to the task at all, as her whole body was shaking.

"Stay here," Shango told Tristana, who was about to fly over to the Mime's side. She frowned greatly, knowing what was to come; she hadn't forgiven Shango about the battlefields he had caused earlier this month, and she wouldn't forgive him for this. He could feel an argument coming, but this time, he would do his best to ignore the spirit. His own convictions were sufficing for an excuse.

The ship lost its speed, as the additional sails were folded up by Thomas; the opposing frigate had started to the west, realizing that it was in a dangerous position as the Hollow's End and its Gravellers had a solid target.





"Frigate to th' starboard!" Nautilus shouted, staring at the enemy ship, the ends of his coat racing with the wind. He looked like a mighty Pokemon that could've very well been the captain of his own ship. Meanwhile, Tylor Grubas had vanished from sight.

"Ahaha!" the Feraligatr started a crooked laugh, "ye rookies got the stones for some naval warfare?!" he asked the Gravellers, and Thomas chuckled at the pun from the masts.

"In range! Aim!" shouted one of the Gravellers, the closest one to Shango; he appeared to be their leader. Tension arose as the ship was getting into perfect position for the rocks to be shot straight at the enemy.

"On my mark!" Shango yelled, as the frigate cut off its speed. On their bow, a Samurott was standing; as far as the moonlight allowed, he could tell that the captain of the enemy ship panicked, probably because they did not really know if the schooner was hostile or not. Their captain turned to face his deck, but it was too late.

"Fire!"

A wave of Geodudes was shot at the enemy ship, and the sound of wood cracking filled the sky, along with the laughter of the three pirates that were apparently having too much fun. But the best part was far from over - the Geodudes exploded on top of the frigate, shaking it whole apart. More than ten explosions lit the sky up, temporarily sheding light on the Zangoose's malevolent smile; despite it, he was feeling fury inside him, boiling and rising. The destruction of Jericho and Ionia was nigh.

The Ionian ship had sustained massive damage due to the positioning, but it was still floating. Suddenly, Shango heard a distant shout calling 'fire', and as the frigate had turned around, a flurry of small iron balls was shot at them; no wall came up to protect them, however, and the shots went right through the Hollow's End; her tristanite hulls repelled them, but the deck and the mast were greatly damaged. The Gravellers who had been hit seemed to be hurt as well, but they continued standing. Tylor rushed over to Shango, and together looked at the enemy ship as it was stirring away from them; the Samurott captain was staring at them from the stern of the frigate. Shango grabbed his forehead and took a step back, an unexpected vision striking him: Commander James of Fort Stone, giving the darkstar to Jericho... Jericho walking away... then this Ionian ship, this ship that they were trying to destroy, was sailing away from the camp... Shango jerked the rudder to the right, the Hollow's End taking a turn, going straight after the frigate.

"What're you doing?!" Tylor shouted.

"I will board them," Shango said with his green eyes glowing with fury, his body brimming with adrenaline. "Full sail, Thomas! Captain, I need you up the mast! Nautilus, the ship's yours!"

Nautilus didn't question Shango's orders, even though he wasn't used to anyone else other than Tylor giving them. He headed over and grabbed the rudder abruptly as Shango jumped next to the Graveller.

"Hold your fire!"

The Hollow's End was headed straight at the Ionian ship, which was about to fire again, but the two ships crushed. The bow of the schooner crushed againist the side of the frigate with a cracking sound, both of the ships shaken and those upon them flinching by the intensity of the impact. The massive frigate seemed unaffected by the impact, while the bow of the Hollow's End was partly destroyed.

Shango was on top of the front mast of the schooner when the collision occured, and he was forced to hold the mast tightly to maintain his balance. Screams from below filled his ears, but he payed them no mind as he was entirely focused on the enemy ship.

"Shango, be careful!" Tristana pleaded. The Hollow's End was turning around were now getting closer to each other, enough for Shango to leap from the Hollow's End mast to the opposing one. He landed safely on its tip and looked down - he had gone unnoticed by the panic that occured on the deck of the Hollow's End. The two crews had started a fierceful fight. As the frigate's deck was higher than the schooner's, their enemies jumped on their deck with more ease and swiftness. Shango caught a glimpse of Tylor, who had thrown a blinding light at the opposition, followed by multiple shadow balls that exploded in liquid darkness upon impact. His targets were blown back, hitting their own frigate and falling into the water through the small gap that separated the two ships. Nautilus had charged straight into battle, hacking and slashing through the ones close to him with abrupt, reckless and straightforward swings of his arms; he didn't even bother using his machete. Thomas had to deal with a Floatzel, and he used his daggers as an advantage againist it. Shango turned his gaze down the frigate, then onto its third mast across it. He lept onto it with ease, then stared directly down at the rudder of the ship, where the Samurott was standing, watching the fight from a safe distance away and giving orders from time to time. Shame, Shango thought, a true captain would join his mates into the fight. But what do Ionians know of honor?

Shango looked down the sail of the mast he was standing onto; surprisingly, it was not folded like the other sails, as to keep the ship from moving. Now it was slightly blown forward by the wind, forming a perfect slide.

"Oh dear," Tristana gasped when his feet left the mast in a dive. He flipped in midair, landing on the sail's soft substance and sliding downwards. The moment he stepped on something solid, he shot himself up, landing in front of the Samurott in a flash; their eyes met just for a moment, enough of the realization of the impending death to be spread in a horrified, shocked expression on the captain's face. Shango had stabbed him in the side of his throat and his lower chest, where his front feet met the rest of the body. His white whiskers were sprayed with blood and he leaned forward as Shango removed his claws from the sturdy body. They were precise hits, as he wanted his victim alive just for a moment...

He jumped right into the Rift of Life, instantly snatching a scene from the past: the Ionian ship arriving at the enclosed docks of the coastal Ionian Palace, the well known Armaldo waiting eagerly for it. When the frigate docked, the Armaldo boarded the ship, running as fast as he could with his heavy feet, and the captain greeted him with the chest; the Chancellor lifted it up with both of his scythes and just walked away, ordering the Keeper guards in the docks to pay the crew of the ship. Shango watched the image fade with Jericho crossing the garden behind the docks towards his palace, chest in hand. Now he knew where the darkstar was, but it wasn't quite positive information. When he confronted Jericho, he would have to face the Stone of Destruction, along with the rest of Ionia; suddenly, the task seemed difficult beyond impossible.

Shango was brought back to reality, the screams and battle cries, explosions and bones cracking filled his ears, his eyes were looking straight into the captain's blue ones. The Samurott was shaking strangely, as if he was trying to say something. He had fallen on the ground, his feet unable to hold him up.

"You must... stop... the Chancellor..." the captain coughed up blood, as his wounded throat bled continuously. He fell to the side, and Shango instantly kneeled next to him, his heartbeats quickening - was this not an Ionian?

"Who's asking?" Shango asked plainly, but his eyes turned white and he passed away. He slowly got up, the fierce wind hitting his back and causing his cape to wave over his side. Tristana had turned away from the scene, but once she felt Shango's doubts, she grabbed the end of his hood.

"What's wrong?"

"The Captain appeared to be againist Jericho. Perhaps I made a mistake..." he admitted, looking at the dead captain of the frigate in front of him with pity. But he was an Ionian, this was certain, and Ionians were his enemies. But, what he had said about Jericho... "Jericho is planning something," Shango whispered, having the darkstar in his mind.

"Um, Shango," Tristana pulled his hood away, making him look at the Hollow's End. Tylor's crew was cheering, along with the Gravellers. The deck was painted with blood and three of the Gravellers lay dead on it, but their mates would mourn for them later. Shango jumped on the Hollow's End, right next to Tylor who was behind the rudder.

"Where the heck were you, Wonderboy?" he asked with a laugh, "you missed all the fun, mate!"

The Gravellers started disposing the dead bodies off the ship as Shango evaluated the ship. It seemed to be damaged, but it was still alright; burnt wood from the explosions that took place, holes on the deck and cracks of the wood on the base of the mast. He grabbed the rudder quickly as Tristana became a flare, sheding her light across the ship. The moon and the stars shone brightly in the sky, now that the clouds were gone.

"Full speed ahead," he shouted at Thomas, who started climbing the brails.

"Hey, what of the ship?" Tylor asked.

"Blow it up."

"But the booty..."

"There's nothing of value on that ship."

"We could use it..."

"No, blow it up."

"You're not resourceful, Wonderboy."

"I prefer being logical. We don't have enough crew members to man both ships."

"So?! Just head back an' get more!" Tylor said, pointing at the frigate which was left behind as they sailed away.

"Telaar saw the explosions, if we don't do this today, Ionia will send ships to their defense."

Tylor condeded and headed over to a Graveller, ordering him to a throw a last Geodude, precisely into the hatch of the deck of the Ionian ship. That he did, and a great explosion lit up the sky, making their ears flinch for a moment. The frigate cracked in two and started sinking, while the crew of the Hollow's End, wounded sailors or pirates or not, cheered as they sailed away.