[X] My Assistant

[LittleShadowPoke...]

This is a closed RP that is not accepting any more members. All bunnying has been decided upon in advance. Enjoy!

Joey wandered around the land of Fidona. It had been two weeks since the helicopter from Starfall Field had dropped him off and he still felt like it was his first day. Leaning up against a tall, modernized building in Fidona’s capital and absentmindedly peeling mold off a roll of bread, the young trainer gazed around the city blanketed by tropical flora and atmosphere and surprisingly even fauna, noted as he shared a cleaner piece of bread with a neighborhood Chatot.

While it was a bit hot and humid, Joey knew too well the desert’s cold night than to spurn tropical warmth. Plus, the local library was the perfect haven with air conditioning. Quite content to spend his time reading and taking in everything of which he always assumed he was cheated during childhood, Joey only left to exercise his Pokémon and to look for food. Oddly enough, the Raticate, Sinbad, still felt inclined to tag along with Joey’s group, but it was not unusual for him to maintain independence by disappearing for a few hours or a day and refusing any food offered to him by Joey, who shrugged off the Pokémon’s indifference with the mentality that he didn’t need another mouth to feed.

Luckily, along with Pokémon books, the young man also pored over nutrition books and general education books. His only regret was not being able to stay longer and read the books forever, but in order to get the best food, one had to circulate amongst the business dumpsters precisely within closing time. Within a week, he had the most effective route. Thanks to that and city food health and safety laws that contributed to the disposal of perfectly good food that may have been on the counter longer than preferred, he ate quite well for possibly the longest stretch of time in his life.

Having finished his bread and stretched, he unfolded his crutches and started for his usual clearing on the edge of the capital city. Joey was pleasantly surprised that he was getting around so well. The sharp spasms of pain in his leg faded away to a near non-existent ache, unless he did something superfluous in movement where his nerves kindly reminded him to cut it the hell out. He fantasized about getting his cast off soon, but had no idea how to do so. Looking around the capital, he imagined that any number of medical facilities would charge for the procedure, and also for every individual step of it. Possibly, he could be charged just for entering the building. His mother’s rantings about the corruption of the medical field flooded back to him in a wave of what he was aghast to recognize as fondness.

“Glorified vets,” she would say. “That’s all they are, Joey. That’s all they are.”

Upon reaching the clearing, relief washed over Joey’s face to see his black and green tent still standing. Constantly, he had to remind himself that his was not Pyrite, where vandalism and theft reigned supreme. Truly, even the wild Pokémon living close to the capital seemed more tame and respectful than he initially expected, both giving him space to live peacefully and pleasantly interacting with him. Since establishing his tent in the clearing with a beautiful view of the capital, especially at night, the un-aspiring trainer and his Pokémon have had the opportunity to play with the local fauna such as Oddish, Whismur, and the ever-adorable Sewaddle. Approaching the tent and plopping down cautiously of his leg at the tarp entrance to the tent, Joey unintentionally caused the scatter of three Zigzagoon with their oran berries, scampering back into the undergrowth.

Clicking each of his four Pokéballs, Joey called out all his Pokémon to stretch their respective appendages in the fresh air and sunlight. Much like he felt his own physical and mental health flourish in his new lifestyle, he saw the same in his Pokémon. All the negative baggage from Pyrite melted away and shed off him like silk wrappings. He was glad to see the same of Claw. The Pidgey really seemed to have filled out lately. While he may never get away from his naturally small stature, he now seemed proportionately healthy, and his feathers and talons were strong and free of cracks or chips.

There was something else in Claw’s demeanor as well. He seemed more patient lately, more refined, and less irritable. He played whole-heartedly with the other Pokémon, even Jet the Seel. Perhaps having enough food to go around and a place to live for even a short while took some of the displaced pressure off. Jet hadn’t really changed all that much personally expect for the strengthened bond between trainer and Pokémon, and said trainer’s enhanced confidence in his battling abilities. Kimiko still had a wondrous and playful curiosity about her, but she seemed at the same time to moving away from her babyish self-absorption. She was becoming more cognizant of her surroundings and peers, and she interacted more than anyone in the group with the wildlife. She was becoming aware of battling, her moves, opponent’s moves, defensive maneuvers, and strategy, mostly due to watching Sinbad, who just happened to lumber out of the undergrowth and into the clearing of playing Pokémon.

Ignoring Joey completely beyond a nod of greeting, the Raticate stalked towards Babylon, his usual first choice. Since what was about to proceed had become a habit of late, Joey tightened in expected anticipation. Babylon, also knowing what to anticipate, scrunched away like a small kitten facing a spray bottle of water.

Joey recognized Sinbad as a competent battler and a virtuous tactician and liked to think he had the vaguest idea of what Sinbad intended. He truly thought that Sinbad meant to toughen up Babylon through confrontation, having pinned him as the weakest link, and Joey thought, rightfully so.

Remembering back to Babylon’s latest battling role, which was essentially hiding behind Claw and Joey giving what support he could, came a long way from running off the field, but it was still a few city blocks away from independence. Joey had come to appreciate Babylon’s gentler qualities such as sniffing flowers, rubbing against trees, and laying in a bed of soft and tender ferns among the earth. After seeing such a timid nature in the Eevee, he forgave him for the embarrassing loss and started to solely have concern for his own well-being and self-protection. That’s why, when Sinbad first started his self-imposed campaign, Joey did not interfere.

Sinbad advanced upon the quivering Eevee, slowly and confidently. By this time, Claw, Jet, and Kimiko all had stopped playing and instead looked upon the unfolding scene; Claw shifted uneasily and fluttered his wings, Jet was a cold and calculating statue of Seel flesh, and Kimiko’s wide eyes shone brightly in awe.

Then, Sinbad attacked.

This post has been edited by LittleShadowPokemon: Nov 17 2011, 11:38 PM

[LittleShadowPoke...]

Joey was not a poacher and he was just about to assert so when they were interrupted by the appearance of a tribal aide in the hut doorway. Again, some words were exchanged that he couldn’t see, then abruptly the leader strode forward and reached toward the top of the hut giving a command, and suddenly a Chimecho drifted down and began to glow, thus bathing the room in a soft, but effective light. The leader then ordered her Meganium (Joey wondered if it was a relative of the earlier Bayleef) to search Joey, and her vines pulled away with all of his Pokéballs. It was so quick and invading that it warranted a gasp from him and earned him a smart warning slap from a vine when he reached for his Pokémon. The Pokéballs were given to the shaman who bowed and left.

Joey wondered why the tribal leader had stopped trying to talk with him when another tribeswoman showed up and perched near Joey. This one looked to be a few years younger than him, but she had a kind face. Her purpose became apparent when she started signing, and Joey’s heart sank. They must have realized he was deaf, but he didn’t know how to sign. He started to shake his head no slowly, and then to clarify, he spoke.

“I can’t hear, but I can’t sign either.”

Perceiving this as a waste of time, the tribal leader stalked out, annoyed, and went to see the other prisoners, leaving simple instructions to keep trying and to report back later. The girl next to him sighed at her assignment and Joey grimaced. He hadn’t realized he was much of a chore to be around.

By the light of the hovering Chimecho above them, who was swaying and humming in her own little world, the girl continued to pose carefully enunciated preliminary questions and Joey answered, as truthfully as he knew how, having recognized the only way out would be to play their game. It was one of his life ambitions to live without having his mouth get him in trouble, but he had his own concerns for his Pokémon.

“Who are you, and where do you come from?” the girl started, obviously a bit bored and asking only questions she was expected to ask.

“My name is Joey, and…I’m from lots of places,” he offered, not really sure what she meant by that last question. She snorted derisively at his response.

“Are you a Fidonian resident?” came the tricky-to-lip-read follow-up. Joey hesitated again. He supposed he might be considered a resident, as he had been living in Fidona for a month or so now. He felt shocked that so much time had passed already. Slight irritation showed in the girl’s demeanor as she crinkled and twisted a part of her belt that hung off asymmetrically. He was surprised to see some modern clothing sprinkled in, most noticeably her angled cut skirt and floral patterned blouse.

“Where is your home?” the girl petitioned again.

“I’m sort of in-between homes right now,” was the best Joey could think to say. The girl snorted again in irritation.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” she tossed her head as if shaking off nonsense, which made Joey very uncomfortable.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Joey regretted having uttered that, fearing it would provoke her. Instead, it almost had a calming effect as she looked wistfully out at the village.

“I live in a tree house. Home is wherever you make it, and that’s the truth. If you’re homeless, that’s completely your choice,” she added while gazing out the hut. Joey didn’t have time to puzzle over her statement, because he took the opportunity of her pause.

“Where did you take my Pokémon?”

“I didn’t take them anywhere,” she turned back to look at Joey, who started to verbally protest. She halted him with a gentle raise of her hand and continued on, “That was our shaman who will be tending to your Pokémon and making sure they’re all right. No harm will come to them, belonging to a poacher or not.”

“I am not a poacher,” Joey bristled.

“We would be inclined to believe you, if evidence were not against you. I’ve been told you have an injured leg, as if a Pokémon had to defend itself against you,” the girl had a way of accusing so evenly and calmly, it was almost graceful. It would have been, had Joey not been on the receiving end.

“My leg got hurt months ago,” Joey started, but the girl waved the rest of his statement away with one hand.

“Our shaman will see about that. And even if that’s true, all that tells us is that you got hurt poaching months ago,” she stated while sitting back and crossing her legs and arms.

After she posed more questions of an equally intrusive nature, Joey finally thought to ask her name. She obliged after thinking about it.

“I am called Isi. It means Deerling.”

“Really?” Joey cocked an eyebrow.

The girl sighed pensively.

“Well, if you ask my grandmother, it means Stantler, but I think Deerling is cuter.”

Joey could have laughed at the notion of a jungle girl worrying about being cute, but he thought better of it, and went on.

“So, why are you wearing, you know, normal clothes?” Joey asked instead.

Isi peered down at her own attire and blinked. Looking back up at him, she rolled her eyes.

“What were you expecting? Grass skirts?” That time, given her tone and inflection, Joey did laugh a little, and he was certain he saw Isi smile as well.

That was when the leader appeared back in the doorway and both youths stiffened, suddenly remembering their societal places. With a nod from the older woman, Isi stood and brushed herself off modestly, then left the room, giving a comforting look over her shoulder as she passed behind the more traditionally clothed woman.

After Isi was gone, the woman with an air of command and confidence before him looked him up and down with judgment clear on her visage. Then she announced her terse conclusion.

“Until we decide what to do with you, you shall be put to work. Considering your leg, you will join the young children in craft-making.”

- - -

When yet another tribal aide led Joey to the circle of people outside another hut to start his “craft work”, he was amazed to see that the village had resumed what he imagined was normal life. Due to the novelty of the captives wearing off, people were no longer hiding, but instead hurrying from to place-to-place. It seemed everyone had an urgent purpose. This hut needed new straw. That cot needed new strings. Food needed to be cooked. The Pokémon were a whole another story. While most people could be seen with only a single Pokémon partner at their sides, some people could be seen training a whole herd of Pokémon at a time, usually consisting of the same species.

Joey got a few glances his way from the villagers until he sat down among a circle of small children and an older woman supervisor who nonchalantly handed him a wooden rectangle frame with grooved pegs jutting from the center and running all along the edge. He also found a clay pick and an expanse of rolled yarn, but he didn’t have a clue of what to do with them. Everyone around him was working dutifully, but also tirelessly avoiding eye contact with him and his cluelessness. Well, he was used to that. Without being obvious, he took peeks of what the other people were doing with their looms and tried to copy them. He wrapped the yarn around his pegs the same way and knitted them with the pick, but all he achieved was a tangle of knots. A tan boy next to him snickered, and Joey caught the motion out of the corner of his eye. Joey glanced at him in a dismissive manner. The little twerp seemed to be ten or twelve.

“How about a trade? I’ll show you how to do it, and you finish my work,” said the youth, thrusting his loom towards Joey. Clearly, this was meant as a non-optional offer.

“What if I don’t?” Joey challenged. For some reason, the young boy irked him, but he tried to ignore it. Surely as a child, Joey had been more respectful, or at the very least, silent.

“Sure would hate for them to catch you with your work not done,” the tan boy said thoughtfully. “They might even behead you at dawn,” he added as an afterthought.

Joey was almost certain that he was joking, but he also didn’t put it past these people. As he passed through the village earlier, he had glanced around for Lori, and did so again while crafting. He desperately needed to find her and get out of here, because he had the feeling that the matriarchs of this village preferred the “guilty until proven innocent” approach. If they found the trapped Braviary, newspapers back in Fidona would be publishing Idiot Boy Causes Redhead Girl to be Slaughtered by Natives, and that would just make trying to live in his tent more troublesome than usual. He might never have a peaceful moment after that.

To allay suspicion, he took the younger boy’s loom and followed his instructions while he reclined in his tan, athletic form, quite content that he was free from he dubbed ungraciously to Joey as “prisoner’s work”. Once he had some direction, working the loom and pick was easy and even surprisingly enjoyable. He wasn’t really sure what the kid was complaining about so much. He doubted there was something better to do, unless there was a TV in one of the tree houses. Joey worked swiftly, and while his stitches appeared a bit crooked and a few holes could be seen from where he either dropped a stitch or combined two by accident, it was still passable and his young acquaintance yawned and stretched.

“We’re finally done! Geez, that took it out of me. Hey, you’re not that bad,” he said as he reviewed the work. Then he put down the materials and bounced energetically into a standing position and started to leave. “Well, I’m off, but…” he paused as he looked Joey up and down. “I don’t know what the big deal is about you. You look harmless. You must be younger than me, kid.”

“I don’t think so, kid,” Joey stressed. “I’m seventeen.”

“Oh,” the boy muttered. It didn’t look like he believed Joey, but he also wasn’t going to argue the point.

After some consideration, he offered a quick escape to Joey, at least from his current task.

“I have some more work you can help me with, so it happens,” he grabbed Joey around his wrist and yanked him to his feet rather easily. To the old woman whom Joey had forgotten about, he announced in a mock-heroic fashion.

“I’m taking the prisoner to his next task!” he bowed with Joey dramatically and then turned and marched him off to around the backside of the village to a woodier area. The old woman nodded benignly and starting packing up the finished work from the looms into a wicker basket. To Joey, she looked too old to even function, and hardly seemed to care where "the prisoner" went. The native boy offered to "rough him up" some to make it seem more legit, but Joey declined on the basis of lack of necessity. Along the way, they exchanged names and pleasantries, or at least as well as Joey could while he was looking out for the shocking red of Lori’s hair and plotting his escape.

“I’m called Cuauhtémoc. It means ‘falling Braviary’,” the boy stated matter-of-factly. Joey stiffened with guilt, but shook it off before it was noticed. He didn’t even catch the first part in the least.

“That’s rather tragic, isn’t it?” Joey asked.

“No, it’s heroic. Why would it be tragic?” the native puzzled.

“Falling is the opposite of what flying-types intend, isn’t it?”

“No! Not like that. Not ‘falling’ as in someone killed it. ‘Falling’ as in going in for the kill.”

“That’s called ‘diving’.”

“Maybe to you. Translation isn’t perfect, okay?” the native boy bristled.

“Okay then,” Joey placated.

He was also about to ask where they were going and when they would get there, but the boy stopped, apparently having arrived at his intended destination and looked upon the scene before them with satisfaction. A troop of Bidoof and two Bibarel were working diligently to cut logs and shape them. The next part of their assumed assembly line required packing mud into the crevices of what appeared to be a small corral made of logs, except it was being filled with water. Deft little Bidoof paws packed in the mud which was then slapped noisily by Bibarel tails. A lone Magby stood nearby to harden the mud on the outside to cement the stability of the structure. When it was time, the Bibarel expertly filled the enclosure with a Water Gun technique. Cuauhtémoc noticed Joey looking and started to explain.

“They’re building two of these for the upcoming marriage ceremony. Here, I’ll show you,” he walked over to the water-filled log structure, and pulled out a Pokéball.

“Isn’t that considered technology? Hypocritic, much?”

“Harsh, much?” the native countered as he released the Pokéballs contents into the water. “We’re not as orthodox as some of the tribes around here, you know. Especially when they’re around my age or so. We’re allowed some technology in special circumstances, like this is.”

Joey got an eyeful of what “this” was, and his first impression was a horribly bloated Luvdisc that required medical attention, but upon closer inspection, he could tell it was structurally different from the Pokémon with which he was familiar.

“It is customary for each side of the bride and groom’s family to offer an Alomomola as a blessing to their union. The better the Pokémon, the better the blessing. It’s almost like a competition, but no one will ever admit it. This time, I’m in charge for my family, and I can’t let them down.”

The intense fire that burned in his eyes when he watched the Caring Pokémon swimming contentedly in its pen struck a chord with Joey. It was times like these when he considered if having a family and the accompanying responsibilities were worth it, and if he could ever live without the freedom he enjoyed now. He wasn’t expecting it when the native boy turned to him with that same intense look and posed his question.

“Will you help me?”

Joey faltered, and then recovered. He wanted a Pokémon battle, of course. How else would the Alomomola get stronger?

“I sure wish I could, but they took my Pokémon,” Joey muttered, feeling in his front scrub pockets for his Pokéballs. The emptiness engulfed him in loneliness. He was surprised to find that he felt vulnerable without his Pokémon within reach.

“Oh, right. I suppose they would do that. They’re probably with the shaman! I’ll be right back,” Cuauhtémoc bounded away before Joey could comment and the trainer glowered in envy at the other boy’s obvious athletic ability. In order to kill time and take his mind off it, he wandered over to the pen and reached out to the giant pink fish, which swam over sociably and greeted him in its mellifluous language. Not that he could hear it, but he petted the scales anyway and let his hand drift lazily through the water. It felt nice, cool, and refreshing. Even though being in the water led to all his current injuries, he still missed going swimming, but his swimsuit had been in his pack…, which had been taken earlier, and he hadn’t seen it since. He felt naked without his Pokémon and supplies, but he could survive awhile longer. He just had to remember to get his stuff before he escaped.

Before he could think any more on the matter, Cuauhtémoc bounded up happily and tossed Joey’s pack at him, noting that all of his Pokéballs were in there. Although he wanted to check on each one of his Pokémon, the native boy wouldn’t release his attention.

“There. Now, we’re all set to battle!” the native boy grinned.

"They were all pretty tired from before. We had a rough day," Joey pressed.

"Our shaman is the best in all of Fidona. Your Pokémon are fine now."

Joey suppressed a groan and reached into his pack. The order of his Pokéballs was scrambled, so it was a gamble on who he would send out. He grabbed one that felt lucky, and got poised to battle.

[Living Arrow]

“I said let, GO!” Lori wrestled with the girl who had taken hold of her bag which contained her Pokeballs. “Those are my Pokemon!”

With a hard shove, the brutish female knocked Lori back down to the ground, the bag stolen successfully. Lori glared up at her and wished she had stronger muscles and the nerve to fight back harder but sense was ringing in her eyes, pleading with her not to get herself or her Pokemon killed. Instead, she pouted and stared daggers at the girl’s back. Another woman entered the hut, this one older and decorated with feathers.

“Where did she take my Pokemon?!” Lori demanded immediately, the heat in her voice controlled but still undeniably simmering. The woman, maybe around forty years of age, regarded her for a moment in silence before she spoke in a heavy accent.

“Your Pokemon are being tended to by our Shaman.” Was her response, followed by: “To be given treatment like that in a Pokemon Center.”

Lori snorted. As if a bunch of barbarian women could heal Pokemon as quickly and as fully as a Nurse Joy with her Chansey! Whatever these tribal women were eating, Lori was willing to bet it was illegal in most countries!

“And the egg shall remain in our custody.”

The egg?... The egg!

“What!? No! That egg is mine! I found it first!” Lori protested angrily, rearranging herself to sit on her knees, swathe of hair grasped between both hands. They had been kidnapped and now their Pokemon were being stolen from them?!

“Poached it.” The tribal leader corrected her with a stern frown. Lori frowned right back.

“Poached it? But it wasn’t even cracked…”

A breeze rustled through the hut as the tribal woman peered at Lori through narrowed eyes. There was a considering moment as she weighed the trainer up. Clearly, some scrutiny was being employed but after a minute she breathed a sigh and her stern eyes relaxed a little.

“How old are you, girl?” She asked.

“Sixteen…” Lori foled her eyes and eyed the woman suspiciously. “Why? You’re not going to try and marry me off to one of those dirty boys are you?”

“Ha! No!” The woman actually laughed and shook her head before saying to herself, “and we thought they were poachers at first!”

“You thought what with the who now?” Lori leaned closer. “You’re mumbling and that accent’s redic.”

“That comment you made before,” the woman ignored her, “about Kino Pardare. She really is your sister? The Unova League Champion? The pictures we have seen confirm the resemblance and we found a photo of you both in your bag.”

Lori blinked. Someone had listened to her? Oh yes! That meant they could be on their way back to town in no time! She silently thanked her sister and stood up, straightening out her dress for her imminent departure.

“And you are also a trainer?” The woman went on, a young girl entering the hut beside the elder and watching Lori with steeped interest. “A trainer of six years experience?”

Lori had to keep herself from gagging. She had been held back from embarking on her Pokemon journey at the age of ten since her family could not afford the sponsorship. Six years on and she had precisely one real trainer-to-trainer Pokemon battle under her belt and that had only been won since her tag partner had told her what to do.

“Of course.” Lori lied, folding her arms and raising her nose. “Fourth in the Sinnoh league and fourth again in Johto.”

“Really? We didn’t recognise the name…” The woman passed a look to the girl at her side. “What years?”

“Er…” Lori floundered. Lying really wasn’t going to get her out of there any faster!

“It doesn’t matter,” the woman interrupted again, much to Lori’s relief, “Star here will be grateful for your assistance while we tend your Pokemon. Now, I’ll leave you to get started and meet with you once the sun falls beyond the horizon.”

Lori wanted to askhow long that would be but the girl grinning at her stole her attention before she could ask another thing by grabbing her hand and running out into the village.

*****

“So we make them battle and the experience gained will make that fish thing stronger?” Lori asked doubtfully. “And then your big brother can marry that girl with big healthy fish and that’s some sort of good luck thing?”

For some reason the tradition just didn’t stick with Lori. In fact, it was one of the most ridiculous things she had ever heard of. How would taking two strong Pokemon to a wedding give the couple a blessing? Why was a blessing even needed? Shouldn’t the Type of Pokemon matter more? Like a Ghost type could mean an early death or a flying type mean that they will go on long travels!? Lori’s mind ran away with her at the thought while Star went over and over the ceremony and the requirements but it was only when Lori’s Pokeballs were placed back in her hand did she really realise what was going on.

“I’m battling that Alohalolo… thingy?”

“Well yes,” Star’s eyes lit up at the prospect, “the experience gained from the sister of a League Champion must be the best it could ever get! It will be one of the most fantastic blessings our village will ever see, if you battle it!”

“Riiight…” Lori was totally in over her head. What if this Aloho-fish was stronger than her Pokemon? She doubted that those spears she’d been threatened with were just for decoration. “So when do we start?”

“Right now!” Star delighted in waving over a small girl carrying Lori’s bag. “Your Pokemon are completely healthy now, even your egg, and we can get started as soon as we go to the battle pool!” Lori faked a smile but the relief of having her Pokemon back was tremendous.

It turned out the battle pool was literally just that – a pool made from branches and mud where a collection of Bidoof and Bibarel (Lori knew those Pokemon from her home region. They were mostly considered to be a pest but she thought they had a dumb sort of cuteness about them) had constructed the make-shift fish tank. As they approached, lori could see that Joey was already there ahead of them with a younger boy.

“Joey!” Lori exclaimed and waved to catch his attention as she jogged to him, her hair snapping like a flaming banner in her wake. “Are you OK?” She asked quickly, looking him over for signs of mistreatment. “They hurt you? Your Pokemon?”

“No Pokemon would ever be harmed here,” Star interrupted softly, “and neither would you. You’re our guests.”

“Funny way to treat guests.” Lori muttered before turning back to Joey. “They’ve got it into their heads that I need to battle some fish thing for a blessing before we can leave. I promise it’ll be quick and then we can go back to the Pokemon Center for a big dinner – it’s all my fault we’re out here, anyway.”

She grabbed his hand and squeezed. “I’m really really sorry,” she admitted, “but I’ll make it up to you – I swear!”