You will probably regret reading them. Things in here can be loosely construed as canon; they may not be perfect representations of the events in question but can be considered a relatively accurate synopsis.
Posted: Thu Mar 26, 2015 5:01 pm
Thunderstone
It was a weird little house. It didn’t look much like a house at all, to be honest. It was only about 7 feet tall and it was completely and perfectly square. It would have been a perfect box if not for the fact that there was a single, solitary outcropping on the top. It looked like some sort of institute and that wasn’t far off from the truth.
Up top, you see, was Tempest of Storms. That was her workshop. It was where she tinkered and dabbled with her electronics. She was a tinkerer. Not by trade but instead by preference… it had always been her passion, even during her period of “employment”. She liked electronics and they liked her. They were simple and predictable; they followed rules and instructions. They were rules she knew and instructions that she wrote herself. It was a quieter life that she had initially been unwilling to accept but she took to it fairly well in time. Her husband needed space and moving somewhere a little more… rural was suitable. She didn’t regret the choice. He was much happier and so was she. They made periodic trips to the city to visit friends, to get supplies and to get food. The briefer visits were stress-free and obligation free. There was none of the constant wear and tear she had become so disturbingly accustomed to in her time in civilization. She was a much less angry person now.
Slam. Tempest pounded her fists against the table in front of her as she heard a symphony of crackles and tiny little pops behind her. She could hear her electronics dying. She could feel it, too; her hands were still hot from where the pair of wires she had been working with had suddenly burnt her. “WHAT THE ******** PUER!?” It was always him when this happened. It was always her husband. She had built this workshop up here to stop him from getting too close because whenever he did this ******** happened! “WHY THE ******** ARE YOU ON THE LADDER!?”
"It cracked." What? What does he mean it cracked? "It’s time."
It’s time?
"Oh my god, it’s time." It’s time it’s time it’s time.
Tempest stumbled out of her chair and kicked it out of her way, sending it toppling to her side. She hastily rushed to the ladder down and dove down head first. It wasn’t the floor that met her but instead stone as she bounced from the stairs to the back of her husband and off. There was nothing else to stop her, nothing to slow her down; the sliding doors were kept tucked away and there were no stairs or ladders to descend. She dashed forward and took a hard left, the carpet slipping under her as she struggled to keep a grip against it.
The entirety of her sprint had taken only a few seconds. She was warm, both from the exertion which had left her breathing heavily and the nature of the room. The only thing in the room was some blankets and a gentle heater of her own design that insured that the room stayed pleasantly warm.
It had cracked. There was one gentle little crack across the smooth, shiny surface. A perfect little break that was guaranteed to be healthy if the subtle movement inside was anything to prove. She had to resist the urge to tear it open herself. What was inside would make its own way out, she knew that. It was more than capable. It had its mother’s blood.
More cracks tore across the surface as Puer stepped into the room and waited beside Tempest. The two were mere inches away. They both seemed to stop breathing, as if they were frozen in time; the only reminder of their own lives was the gentle motion of Tempest’s hand against the egg.
One last tremendous crack sounded out throughout the room. The egg rocked as the split grew and grew until the egg was finally bisected.
And out stumbled a silly little grey Pichu. He was furless, as was normal, but his skin was grey and stiff; it was almost scaley. But he was so very, very warm in her hands. He was so, so warm against her. He was quiet; there was no whining or screeching, simply a dull awareness and a gentle breathing so loud that it drowned out the world around her. Warm tears dripping off of her chin were the only thing that brought her back to herself.
"We made this."
"We did."
It was a nice day. It was a very nice day. It had been nothing but very nice days. Tempest was sitting up in her workshop where she was tinkering away at a few electronics. Sunlight was streaming in through the small windows, one in the roof and one in the wall on the other side of her desk. She normally didn’t keep it open but there was something just so spectacularly warm about today. She had two more eggs resting downstairs under a nice gentle heat lamp. She wanted a little girl and Puer had decided to oblige her. Speaking of which, he was outside playing with Gale.
Tempest put down the computer part she was handling and shifted slightly in her chair to get a better view. It was… nice. She had thought that she would never, ever have this kind of life. She had given up on the idea of even finding a decent husband but here she was. Little Gale was outside running around and Puer kept a careful eye on him. He was giving the little Pichu the run around, or walk around as it were, since Puer’s steps were lengthy strides in comparison to the little cutie’s hobbling and running.
She wondered what it was that he was saying. She couldn’t exactly read lips, especially not ones made of rock. All she could see was his jaw moving up and down… but it did have her curious. Whatever it was, Gale had stopped moving and was staring at his father. Gale was a smart kid, he couldn’t quite talk yet outside of some burbles and noises but he understood what people said to him. He was nice and quiet too, no problems at night. He was just like his father that way which was probably for the better.
…Well, whatever it was it had stopped. Gale nodded and started running off. Tempest slowly shifted herself back into her seat and looked back down at her electronics. She glanced up one last time at just the right moment to see Gale smash head-first into an immobile Puer.
"WHAT THE ******** ARE YOU DOING!?" The fury in Tempest’s screech had only been matched by the lightning-quick steps that had torn her out of her workshop, down the ladder and through the few doorways she needed to go through in order to exit. Gale was out like a light. Puer was standing there looking shocked, partially at Gale and partially at how quickly (and seemingly out of nowhere) Tempest had appeared.
And then Gale simply sat up, stood up and was as happy as ever. “Pi~” The little, meaningless burble was as happy as it got with Gale. He simply basked in the stares of his confused and (in one case) horrified parents. Their mouths opened and closed, Tempest’s fury having been eaten by confusion and relief while Puer simply wasn’t sure what to say at first.
"Head hardening." It took him a moment to finally say it. "We always do this with our kids…"
“We are not your clan.” Tempest walked over to Gale and picked him up with a grunt of exertion. “If I ever catch you doing that again I’ll make a magnet strong enough to stick you to the roof and I’ll leave you there.” With nothing else said, Tempest went back inside and closed the door behind her.
Crash. It was a nice day in most regards. The sun was shining crash and the birds were singing. Tempest (struggled) to pick up and hold her son in her arms as he squirmed. Gale had gotten older, bigger and most importantly heavier. There was a grunt of strain as she tried to adjust his little body in her arms against his wriggling. He had definitely taken after his father. There was no way she was this heavy as a Pichu. No, this weight was definitely his father's fault. She looked over at her husband Puer with a look that was somewhere between forlorn and angry. "Why is he doing this!?"
"He has too much energy." Puer just... watched. He watched and he watched as Tempest's grip slowly slipped. The weight of her son slowly shifted from her arms to her hands and finally her fingers before her grip failed her completely and Gale came crashing down to the floor. There was another loud crash but Gale didn't seem to mind at all. He just got right back up and ran off, leaving a broken floor behind him.
"But why!?" Her voice was an angry hiss.
Crash. The noise of wood splintering. The noise of porcelain sliding, clattering and shattering against the floor as innumerable shards spread everywhere. Puer seemed unfazed. So did Gale who simply kept running along happily, both mentally and physically oblivious to the "danger" that the shards posed to skin as thick as his.
"Normally we butt heads with our children. It's instinct, he's just acting his out."
Tempest stared, furious. She swore that underneath his even expression he was smirking. Rhyhorn were rare to show emotion and when they did it was almost impossible to tell. But she could tell. She had married the ******** and you better believe she knew what expression he had under that stony visage and it was nothing less than a s**t-eating grin. She wanted to clock him then and there but instead she winced instead as Gale crashed into a wall for what must have been the sixth time in the last half hour. "...Fine. But you find something else for him to run into. You make him butt heads with anything that even looks like a rock again and I'll kill you."
"Alright." Tempest dropped her face into her hands as Puer responded. She took deep breaths. She counted to ten. When she looked up, both Puer and Gale were gone and all that was left behind was her destroyed dining room. The walls were ruined... Dishes for an entire meal had been toppled and they had either cracked or shattered. They wouldn't be able to use the table again, not without repairing it, thanks to Gale crashing straight through one of the legs.
It was outside in a voice just barely low enough to escape Tempest's hearing that Puer leaned over slightly to Gale and whispered, "Good job."
"Pi~"
Cysic X Vice Captain
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Cysic X Vice Captain
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Posted: Fri Mar 27, 2015 12:33 am
Fabulous
Tick.. Tock... Tick... Tock... Tick... Tock...
It was a relaxing sound. For Veilmys, no matter how weary or energetic he was the rhythmic noise was enough to strip away all of his worries and his mind along with them. The clock was a constant within his room but he only ever returned to his room to sleep. He had only a few personal effects and none of his tools or work in the room, that was all delegated to his office. He only returned to sleep. It was a place of peace, dreams and meandering hopes that would eventually bear fruit. He was wrapped up in his blanket, resting in his bed where he was tucked away from the rest of the world. He was protected here, he was isolated from his burdens and his responsibilities and his fears.
"Hello darling! I have returned!"
Well, so much for that. Veilmys's eyes shot open as the voice ripped through the tranquility of the night. His nails shot out and his paws scrambled wildly and in vain as the force that would have taken him free caused his claws to get caught in the blanket. The mysterious voice hadn't spoken again but the terror was no less pressing. A loud rip broke what was left of the silence as the poor Sylveon ripped his blanket to shreds and darted out the door and past the figure he could hardly see.
"Mom, mom!" Running for his mother was pure instinct, nothing more and nothing less. Who else could you run to at times like these?
Veilmys forced his way through the door head first, skittered across the floor and nearly smacked into a dresser as he went. Epitaph was suddenly out of bed, her barely-visible expression a mixture of confusion and fear that quickly changed to rage as the figure advanced through the open door. A puff of flame shot out from her mouth as she readied some kind of vindictive spiel but her face seemed to drop all traces of its former self as the little puff of flame lit up the room. "Hello Annabelle. How are you tonight? It's been forever."
"It's been wonderful darling! I decided to come back to meet your furry little child and to tend to some business seeing as I've been called for."
Veilmys just stared in utter disbelief. What was going on? Why was his father yawning so peacefully as he walked towards the dresser? Why was he pulling the dresser open an--was that a bright pink hat with sequins on it? Why in god's name was he putting it on?
"Oh Solaris~ You still have that old thing?"
Solaris put on a smile that was at least vaguely sincere but was mostly tired. "Always, Annabelle."
Annabelle. Where had he heard that name before? It was familiar--it was so familiar it bothered him. Exhaustion tugged at the corners of his mind and eroded the memories as he tried to bring them forth. He had heard that name, he knew he had, he knew it was important and he just--
"Annabelle? The guildmaster of Crushing Ice?"
"The one and only dear." Veilmys's jaw dropped. "I heard that you were looking for some of the older members of the guild to act as staff and I've come to turn you down. I did it once and while it was lots of fun I'm afraid I'll have to give up the chance to do it twice since it wouldn't be anywhere near as fun the second time." Veilmys would have been upset if not for... this. All of this. "But I did bring something, so hold on just a moment!" With that, Annabelle disappeared through the floor.
"Is she--" "Yes dear. You'll be best off if you simply accept it and go along with whatever she asks. We spent years learning that."
Veilmys swallowed his words. He didn't really understand what was going on anymore so he just waited. It only took a moment before Annabelle popped back up through the floor, except this time with... an Ivysaur under her chin?
"Serrin." Solaris's voice was dry and thoroughly unamused. "How nice it is to see you again at 3 in the morning."
"Solaris...? Epitaph? Annabelle, what the hell am I doing here?" "Serrin" was apparently just as confused as Veilmys was.
"They're starting up the guild again! So I brought you here to help. I'm going to bring Barcy later on because so far he's just been sitting around and it would be much more amusing if he were here instead of being an old fart in a cave or something."
Serrin simply stared for a moment before sighing. "Alright. I'll help. Which one of them is leading it, the kid?"
"Yes~! Epitaph and Solly managed to 'hit one out', so to speak and Veilmys is the result. He's much more determined than his dad from what I've heard but he seems to be just as much of a scaredy-cat. Really, you would think he had seen a ghost the way he bolted from his room!"
Serrin stared back at Annabelle for a moment before shifting in her grip in order to get her to let him down. Once he finally found his way to the floor, Annabelle disappeared below him. "Well then... I guess I'm here now."
Epitaph and Solaris seemed unfazed. Epitaph even seemed pleased. "It's good to have you back with us, Serrin." "We've needed the help" went unsaid. Veilmys simply continued to stare, too shocked and confused by what had happened (something he didn't fully understand) to even process the fact that he had apparently just received a new member of his staff.
To top it all off, Annabelle once more popped out of the ground behind him, quickly stuck a bowtie onto the base of his neck and a top-hat onto his head and then loudly proclaimed that, "There! Now you have your official uniform~ Take care of it well Velly dear, I'll be back in a day or two with another grumpy leader for you."
And with that, Annabelle disappeared for the final time that night, leaving four people awkwardly standing around in the same bedroom.
"Can someone please tell me what the ******** just happened?"
It had been a nice day. ""Barcy!"
It had been a very nice day. "No."
He had been sitting in front of his forge where he was bringing shape to what would eventually be a nice, big axe. ""What?"
He loved his forge. The heat, the rhythmic noises as he smashed the metal, the satisfying sizzle as he cooled it so much more personally than most pokemon could. "No."
He loved axes, too. They were sturdy, strong, effective. They were weapons without waste, without failing. They were singular in their function but vast in their applications. ""What do you mean 'no'?"
There were a lot of ways to use an axe but there weren't many who could use them for fighting. He had a deep appreciation for that. "Whatever you're going to ask, no."
This one too was coming along wonderfully. It was something of an experimental design but it bore the unique distinction of allowing the handle and the two-bladed head to be separated from one another. It wasn't convenient and it wasn't some kind of stupid little "trick" for a fight but it would make repairing either part much easier. ""Well I was going to ask you if you weren't going to be a huge butt but I suppose you already answered that."
Barcel carefully put the blade, which by now was in a state that it could be left alone, and turned to face the one who had intruded into his home. A jet of water shot out of his mouth immediately. It was pointless. He knew it would be pointless. The Froslass that was now so clearly in his field of vision had apparently saw it fit to bring a parasol with her which she promptly opened and placed in the path of fire. Barcel allowed the pressure to lapse completely before he spoke. "What?"
Annabelle quickly opened and closed the parasol a few times as she shook the water off. It was with her trademark bright smile that she announced her plan. ""I've come to take you away!"
Barcel snorted as he turned back away and set to putting away his tools. His answer hadn't changed. "No."
Annabelle sighed. She had expected this but that fact didn't exactly make her any happier to see. ""Barcy dear you have a closet full of weapons you don't use, a forge you struggle to light and a bed you've had for over twenty five years. I'm not leaving you here on your own. You're much better than that and I'm not going to let you sit here and wait until your body gives out. Scarlet would have wanted you to move on."
"...Leave." It was the last thing Barcel would say and he would say it in a very, very quiet voice.
""Alright then. I will." Barcel waited. He wasn't looking at her. He refused to. He just wanted her gone, out of her house, away from his sanctuary. ""With you."
But it wasn't to be. That much was certain when Barcel found the ground under him turning to ice and with a quick tug the Empoleon fell onto his back, unharmed but no longer in control of himself. Annabelle had grabbed him by the feet.
Apparently he didn't have a choice.
Posted: Thu Jul 16, 2015 12:54 pm
This one is mostly just inarticulate ranting. This has more to do with how I view certain things within the universe and is probably useful as context for some of my longer stuff. YMMV, none of this is canon (outside of my own head), etc.
Typing
Type Effectiveness
Type effectiveness (ie: super effective, not very effective, etc.) is generally distinguished by a number of factors. These line up, generally, as "practical" and "energy". Practical stuff is the simplest and most intuitive.
What I mean when I say "practical" of course is the actual match-ups. This is mostly seen around the "neutral" types (Normal, Dark, Fighting, Steel, etc.) that lack any strong elemental affinities. The match-ups between these are largely a result of the fighting styles and ideas that are inherent to the individual species. Fighting types are strict, methodical and efficient. This makes them strong against Normal/Dark types, since they're capable of taking advantage of the openings in their more natural attacks. Dark types do poorly against Fighting Types for this reason--the "cheap tricks" inherent to the movepool do poorly against a trained fighter that can recognize them. This kind of situation governs the relationship between most "non-elemental" pairings, or most keenly "pairings in which one party has no strong affinities".
This, to an extent, is also wrapped into the less mundane match-ups. A fire type is weak against water types on a practical basis because the water cools down their bodies, sending them into shock. Simply put, they become hypothermic very easily. This is, of course, also present for Fire vs. Ice; ice types become hyperthermic (heat stroke) very easily.
In other cases, the issue is generally one of "energy", as below.
Energy
"Energy" is of course something that's sort of inherent to any magical setting. A Clefable has "fairy energy" within them, which is the source of both their strength (ability to RAZZLE DAZZLE) and weakness (susceptibility to poison). This is generally due to these energies having a disruptive effect on one another. It sends the inner body into turmoil, causing a damage and weakness that seems otherwise implausible.
This energy is also what generally dictates availability and is why most pokemon can't learn moves contrary to their own typing, at least not naturally. TMs imbue this energy and this power, but tend to do so poorly in contrary cases.
Ghost types typically act upon this energy. This is the reason ghost types tend to hurt each other efficiently.
Normal types lack any strong energies, rendering them immune to ghost types. On the same token, however, the lack of energies creates a lack of competition; this is why normal types often have an abnormally wide array of skills. There are no competing forces.
Dragon types are innately resilient to all forms of energy and especially so to a few. Only a dragon type can effectively disrupt one of their kin, at least until the introduction of fairies which act as antithetical agents. Ice types get by on a practical basis, as most dragons are cold-blooded.
Energy is attached to both the soul and the body.
Growth & Culture
Growth
Growth is kind of a tricky subject within the pokeverse. Maturity is dictated by a lot of factors, at least within most media. Experience, chronological age, etc. all have deciding stakes in the biological maturity of any given creature. A pokemon exposed to great stress and great trials will grow (evolve) at a faster rate, but it's inherently the case that growth also has to be an age related function. To that end, I generally view it as a byproduct of both; physical and mental maturity are dictated by both age and experience. The former is especially important in analyzing characters, because age confers not just growth (in the typical organic sense) but also social experience. A pokemon who physically matures quickly through combat will not necessarily be as mentally mature as one who took longer to evolve. However, growth periods (evolution) will still trigger structural changes in the brain that can either cement or alter perception significantly, so it's not purely a one-sided thing. Rather, the two mix with mental growth being primarily age/socialization and physical growth being primarily combat experience. This isn't a linear process though; age tends to be the primary contributor to both very early on.
Also, growth rates are logically probably closer to animal rates, since humans are pretty bloody anomalous. Nuanced mental skills may take a while to develop, but low-level social, mental and physical skills (recognizing predators, acquiring food, mobility, basic speech, etc.) develop fairly quickly out of necessity. This means that there's usually a spike in functionality over the course of the first few weeks (up to the point that I would expect a month-old pokemon to act roughly like a human child) and then the progress would slow until it leveled off. This is in contrast to humans, who tend to build such skills at a fairly linear rate.
Culture
Generally, I view the culture of individual species as a byproduct of predation factors. Species that are longer lived and have relatively few predators trend towards more complex cultures. The two sides of the fence tend to be "high selective pressure" and "low selective pressure".
Pokemon with low selective pressure tend to be powerful, bulky herbivores. They're typically no starved for food, they don't have to deal with predation or hunting risks due to it and a looser culture develops because of it. Due to the lack of persistent threats, the pokemon of these species trend towards laxer communities and more frivolous pursuits. This doesn't necessarily mean that they have a complex culture in the contemporary sense, but rather that they generally have a fairly varied one. This might mean something as significant as singing songs and writing poetry or it might be as crude and basic as butting heads and engaging in friendly games (of a more modern sort) in leisure. If necessity is the mother of invention, then these pokemon usually have a necessity to fill their time.
On the other hand, pokemon with high selective pressure tend to be either weaker herbivores or carnivores. Carnivores tend to have relatively fewer leisure activities and a strict, authoritarian leadership system. This is a byproduct of necessity; food is relatively finite and there's always the risk of being attacked back. Strong leaders take control of clans and move them about. Herbivores tend to have a similarly centralized leadership but it's usually dictated by age or some kind of social respect. There's more leisure among these groups, but more complex things (ie: games) tend not to get developed and spread due to the constant threat of others.