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Coriolanus Rowland's Guide to Pokémon Husbandry

Cutlerine

Gone. Not coming back.
A new chapter, eh? What's all that aboot?

Pokémon for Training

Pokémon Training is the reason Pokémon were originally domesticated: the exploitation of their unique capabilities as fighters. For over four thousand years, we have pitted super-powered monster against super-powered monster in mortal (or, in recent years, not-so-mortal) combat; animal rights activists come and go, but Training is here to stay. In this chapter, I suggest how one might start off a career or hobby as a Trainer.

First of all, I must dissuade you from the usual choices. Pikachu, for some unfathomable reason the symbol of Training, is far too temperamental for a beginner; the number of people killed by their recalcitrant electric mice must now be roughly equivalent to the amount of money my wife took from me in the divorce settlement. I also must caution you against choosing a Charmander or Chimchar, or other creature visibly on fire; they have a habit of burning things down all around them. This is fine in the non-flammable stony mountains in which they dwell, but tends to be a large hazard when bringing them inside buildings. Finally, for the sake of variety, I ask you not to bother investing in any of the other traditional 'starter' Pokémon; they have all been poached to near-extinction for the sake of beginner Trainers, and I happen to have a certain vested interest in their continued survival.

What should one be looking for, then, if the usual options are closed off? My answer would be this: find a Pokémon that is tractable, eager to fight, mindful of when to stop attacking, not easily bored by repetitive training sessions and not too difficult to house. If you can find such a thing, I'd appreciate it if you let me know; to my knowledge, there is no one creature that ticks all the boxes.

I started my own career as a Trainer with a Pawniard, which in retrospect was a bad idea; I could potentially have spared several lives had I begun with a nice Sandshrew or similar Pokémon. Avoid these mistakes: choose something from the five I recommend, and you cannot go wrong.

*

Burmy

About as safe a creature as you could wish for, Burmy (Mutocorpus trifecta) is the weakest Pokémon actually capable of battling. It will never harm a human, partly because it is afraid of them and partly because it is physically incapable of breaking human skin. This is one reason I recommend it; the other is that it is inexpensive, and if it should die in the heat of battle, is easily replaced. There are also no laws against Burmy abuse, which means that you can push them far further than other Pokémon; however, they do tend to literally fall apart if you push them too hard, being mainly made out of leaves.

If this occurs, simply store the Burmy in a cool, dry place and keep out of reach of children; after a day or two, it will have rebuilt itself and its cloak using whatever materials it can find. This can be entertaining, if nothing else; I once saw a Burmy made entirely out of used syringes that it had obtained from a heroin addict. It was rather effective in battle, if only because its opponents always inexplicably fell ill partway through the fight.

They are very docile, and though not particularly bright, will learn most commands within a couple of weeks. Despite their lack of fighting spirit, they usually make a brave-hearted attempt at winning a fight; they appear to have a sense of pride, and will redouble their efforts if this is wounded by the opposition.

Diet: Leaves, particularly those of the umbrella thorn acacia tree. In the wild, they never encounter the umbrella thorn acacia tree, but they like it well enough in captivity. They also have a liking for berries, and will steal them whenever they can. This isn't often, since they are physically incapable of carrying them, but it is good to know about these things.

Housing: Not really an issue. Burmy can be kept virtually anywhere, as long as it isn't cold, and they won't complain; they will, however, chew through any paper, leaves or holistic medicines they find, so you may wish to keep them away from these. They will also attempt to replace their cloak to blend in with their surroundings, so don't keep them in an area where items are expensive to replace, such as a jewellery box or watchmaker's kit.

Size: Very small; the largest on record was only just over a foot long. Easy to fit inside your hand luggage on long-haul flights.

Lifespan: Approximately five months; longer if they evolve.

Evolution: Female Burmy command a higher price than males, and this is because they are capable of evolving into three different forms, whereas males are confined to the more usual one. Which you choose is up to you; both have their advantages – or, to speak more accurately, both have their disadvantages. We are talking about Wormadam and Mothim, remember.

Breeding: Burmy cannot be bred, which leaves you in the tricky situation of having to breed a Wormadam with a Mothim. This is difficult, but not impossible; however, it is best left to the professionals.

Acquisition:
Easy. They are found in both cities and the countryside in at least eighteen countries; being adept at concealing themselves, they have spread well across the globe aboard ships and aeroplanes. If you want a really fine specimen, though, the American dealer Tunsford & Sons is an excellent choice.

*

Sandshrew

By far the most unintelligent Pokémon in this chapter, Sandshrew (Manis terravora) is the only species of pangolin to also qualify as a Pokémon by the standards of the World Pokézoology Confederation (WPC). It has been said of them that they are the only creatures dim enough to attempt to copulate with fire; while this may be something of an exaggeration, it is certainly accurate that they have trouble learning the difference between their Trainer and their opponent, or, in extreme cases, between their Trainer and meatloaf.

Why, then, have I recommended Sandshrew if it is so stupid? The answer is its tenacity, and its safety. Very few people manage to injure themselves with a Sandshrew – about the only way I can think of is to roll it into a ball and throw it at someone's head – and no matter how hard it finds the task, it will never give up trying to learn a move, if only because it lacks the brain to think of something else to do. These qualities make it an admirable first Pokémon for the Trainer, and the fact that it gains large claws and razor-edged plates when it evolves only sweetens the deal.

Owing to their lack of intellect, Sandshrew are often not aware of how badly injured they are in battle, so they do require constant monitoring to avoid their driving themselves to death. If you do this, though, you should have very few problems, especially as Sandshrew are surprisingly effective against most other so-called 'starter' Pokémon: their solid bodies and heedless mindset mean that they shrug off enemy hits without so much as flinching, and their counter-attacks are strong. They also possess a wide range of different attacks, always useful and uncommon among basic Pokémon. Close up, they defend themselves with their claws; when further away, they are renowned for their Poison Sting, which they use without apparently caring that they have no poison whatsoever to use for it.

Diet: Insects, predominantly; however, unlike the rest of the Pholidota family, Sandshrew does not care for ants or termites. They are happy with mealworms and well-minced dog food, for the most part – though for a really sleek specimen, I recommend vitamin tablets as well, as Sandshrew are prone to catching colds anywhere outside of the desert.

Housing: As its name suggests, Sandshrew is most at home in sand, and its house ought to reflect this. They don't need a lot of space (they often forget what their homes look like, so each part of it seems perpetually new to them) but the sand must be deep enough for them to burrow in, or they will become unhappy. The house must also be heated, or they will catch colds in their sleep; they are desert animals, and prefer the heat.

Size: Not too large. They average at a couple of feet long; there is supposed to be a gigantic twenty-foot Sandshrew that swims through the sands of the Gobi Desert and feeds on people like a crocodile, but this is probably not true – Sandshrew cannot swim.

Lifespan: About fifteen years, give or take a few months; they ought to retire from battling by the time they are twelve, or they are likely to drop dead due to heart failure. Of course, this may be exactly what you desire, in which case I know of an excellent therapist. They may live up to twenty years if they evolve.

Evolution: There is no reason not to. Once you have honed your skills on a Sandshrew, a Sandslash is the obvious next step: the same creature, but a little bigger, a little longer-lived and equipped with rather splendid claws.

Breeding: Tricky. Sandshrew find it very difficult to tell males and females apart, and tend to approach any potential mate very cautiously. If you really want to try, it is said that they breed best during times of drought; I tried not giving either of my Sandshrew any water for a month, but all this did was kill them, so this may not be true.

Acquisition: Pet stores around the world carry Sandshrew, but excellent specimens are to be had from Kanto's Pokémon dealerships. Alternatively, you could try the Mongolian sub-species, which can be purchased inexpensively in Ulan Bator, but I have heard that they are, if anything, more stupid than their Kantan relatives.

*

Axew

Mention the Dragon type, and the eyes of any red-blooded male light up immediately; they are exactly the sort of creature people think of when they think of Pokémon: large, fearsome and capable of both hacking a man to pieces and incinerating him with their breath. However, such creatures as these are not for the starting Trainer, and so we start with one of their smaller cousins, Axew (Acutasecuris draco minor).

Axew is as tame as dragons get: a small tusked creature no larger than the average Sandshrew, affectionate and relatively intelligent. The only drawback is the cost: rare even in their homeland of Unova, Axew cannot be obtained for less than a thousand dollars, although they do last a long time in the manner of dragons.

In battle, they are enthusiastic, if not always victorious, and will cheerfully rush in close to attack. This is not always the best course of action, but one can't fault their intentions. They have a tendency to put rather more faith in themselves than is strictly warranted, and often attempt to overpower vastly superior foes, such as Machamp. It is wise to hold them back, if you wish them to remain long in the realm of the living.
When their tusks break, they regrow slightly stronger than before; a common trick is to repeatedly take a hammer to them, in order to build up their strength for fighting. Some question the morality of this, but the Axew don't seem to mind any more than would anyone having a tooth pulled without anaesthetic; I personally don't see anything wrong with it.

Diet: It loves berries, surprisingly, and lots of them, too. It comes as a surprise to many that there are herbivorous dragons, but its entire evolutionary line is much fonder of fruit than of meat, although it will accept the latter if offered.

Housing: They are hardy creatures, coming from the wild mountainous regions of northern Unova, and easily house-trained; they can live with you like a dog, but they tend to become rather too attached to their owners if kept this way. Far better to keep them in the garden, where their enthusiastic tusk-fighting practice will keep them safe from predators – though you could create a wire pen to house them in if you were particularly worried.

Size: Similar to Sandshrew, but not so heavily built; Axew are the scampering rather than the plodding sort.

Lifespan: Around thirty years, but close to eighty if evolved once; if matured to Haxorus, they will probably outlast you with a maximum lifespan of one hundred and eighty years. Even for a Dragon-type, this is exceptional, and research is currently being undertaken to find out precisely what it is that confers such longevity upon them.

Evolution: A long and difficult process, which is why I recommend Axew for the beginner, who will be ill-equipped to deal with a six-foot-tall axe-mouthed dragon. They don't mature to Fraxure unless their body perceives that they are continually threatened, and so they must be battled with daily to even begin the process. After that, it takes even longer for them to become Haxorus; because of the strain that such long lives impose on their bodies, they are reluctant to evolve any further. It is true that during the last forty years of their lives or so, Haxorus become more retiring and unwilling to fight – but make no mistake, they are still very much capable of doing so.

Breeding: As far as I am aware, Axew have not been bred in captivity, which adds to their rarity.

Acquisition: Try the expert trappers in Unova; Thom Mitchum has a very good reputation as a dragoncatcher, as does Vanessa Ketanne. Do not, however, expect their services to come cheap: each expedition will take around a month, and they put themselves at considerable risk to find them.

*

Snubbull

Snubbull (Phobocanis incisivus) is famed for two things: its ferocious face and its charmingly affectionate nature. In truth, it is not an eager fighter, and mainly relies on its naturally frightening appearance to scare off its enemies. However, when it does engage in battle, it is very capable, and possesses a remarkably strong bite. I remember that I once saw a Snubbull bite clean through a man's shin; it was around that time that I decided I probably needed a change of career.

Once you get it used to battling, Snubbull is perfectly decent. It often intimidates its opponents – provided they are small enough to actually be intimidated by a two-foot pink bulldog – and this gives it an edge it needs, as the weight of its head and the many folds of skin that hang from its body mean it is slow to move. When it does land a hit, though, the enemy most certainly feels it: the same large head that makes it slow is a formidable weapon.

Outside of battle, Snubbull is very playful; it is fond of children (in the socially acceptable way, not the way that Lombre is fond of children) and will cheerfully submit to being hugged or pushed about. Unfortunately, children are not fond of it, or at least not of its terrifying face, and it will often spend all day lumbering after fleeing playmates; if nothing else, this at least proves the strength of its loyalty, misplaced though it may be.

Snubbull are prone to Rowan's Syndrome (see Appendix I) and it is advisable that you take them to a qualified Pokéveterinarian at least twice yearly to nip any potential disease in the bud.

Diet: The harder the food, the better – Snubbull delight in the power of their jaws, and take great pride in being able to crack open coconuts with their molars. As predators, however, it is wise to stick to a mainly meat-based diet, preferably with the bones still in it. Like children, Snubbull can become addicted to sweets, especially gobstoppers, which they crunch up whole; the resultant tooth decay compromises their biting power, so I advise strictly rationing any treats you choose to give them.

Housing: In the home, like a dog or a slave-child.

Size: Between two and three feet tall. Those from Johto tend to be taller.

Lifespan: About fourteen years, just long enough for you to get very attached to it before it dies.

Evolution: Inevitable. At around seven years of age, Snubbull begin to mature to Granbull; when kept as a pet, this is often the end of a loving relationship, because Granbull are far larger and more intimidating. This is a pity, because they are equally loving, despite now possessing jaws that crocodiles weep in envy for. For a Trainer, of course, evolution is a blessing, since the Pokémon are left more powerful and equally loyal.

Breeding: The sexes normally display little interest in each other, preferring to consort with humans than with their own kind; however, when a female comes into heat, males from miles around will flock towards her, very slowly.

Acquisition: Their popularity as house pets means that they are easy to get hold of; most pet stores carry them. Those obtained from their ancestral homeland, Johto, are usually a little taller and more solidly-built, though – always useful in a fight.

*

Ralts

The most 'friendly' of all the Psychic-type Pokémon, Ralts (Psychovorus familiaris) is always a firm favourite with beginners. When it forms a bond with a human, it does so for life; this is commonly mistaken for friendship, but this is not so: Ralts is a parasitic emotivore – that is to say, it attaches itself to a person and feeds on their emotions.

Do not let this put you off, however. Because they can only feed on positive feelings, and because their only source of them is you, they have a vested interest in keeping you alive and happy, and will do whatever they have to in order to ensure you stay that way. For the Trainer, of course, this means winning battles – and this, combined with their high intelligence, means they are very easy to train.

Physically very frail, Ralts are adept at wielding mental attacks from an early age, and their strength increases as the emotions of their Trainer (though a better word might be 'host') become more positive. When a Ralts begins to win, therefore, it starts off what is termed a positive feedback loop, where the Trainer's reaction furthers the Ralts' power, which increases the reaction, which increases the power, and so forth.

However, Ralts are very easy to injure, something that I've found Trainers don't always appreciate. If facing one in battle, 'accidentally' slaying it may prove a useful demoralising tactic to use against the opposing Trainer.

Diet: Not a problem; they feed themselves. If you find yourself suffering depression, however, I recommend having the Ralts removed. This can be done easily and inexpensively with a small-calibre handgun.

Housing: They will follow you everywhere; locking them away will not stop them, as they are adept at teleportation. Since they excrete nothing except mild synaesthesia, there should be no problem with them coming with you.

Size: They grow with the amount of emotive power they receive, but their height is capped at around three feet tall; at this point, they begin to evolve.

Lifespan: Uncertain; Ralts seem to live as long as their host, and perish immediately upon their death.

Evolution: This occurs when Ralts has stored enough energy to invest in transformation. Further evolution to Gardevoir occurs in the same way; however, if you use a Dawn Stone on it and turn it to a Gallade, you must be wary of the fact that the parasitic link is severed: Gallade actively hunts emotion, splitting open its prey's head with its blades and draining the feelings away directly.

Breeding: It does not seem to be possible. Both male and female Gardevoir occasionally duplicate themselves, but the mechanism by which they do this is unknown. Gallade display no sexual interest in them at all; instead, they seem to regard them as a particularly choice form of prey, packed as they are with emotions.

Acquisition: Hoenn is the only known place where Ralts and its relatives are naturally found. There have been some reported sightings in Sinnoh, but these must be regarded with a healthy dose of suspicion, for everyone knows that the Sinnish are not to be trusted.
 

Treecko's Awesomeness

Treecko is claimed!
Once again, awesomeness awaits me in this thread. My favorite was probably sandshrew, as I never thought of them as being stupid, but it works perfectly here.

Even without an actual story, or characters outside of Cornelius, you have without a doubt the most well developed narrator I've ever seen (outside of a few first person stories, and of course the Adventure of Adventureness, which is another matter entirely) in a work fan-fiction.

Right now, as there are only two pages, it doesn't matter much, but if you ever get more than a few pages stacked up, I would suggest putting a link to the most recent chapter in your PMs.

Slightly off topic, but I thought I would wish you and Pokemon Snakewood good luck on HOTY at Pokecommunity.

Anyway, keep up the good work!

-TA
 

DarknessInZero

<- Es mío! MÍO!
Wheeeeeeee! Review time!

When their tusks break, they regrow slightly stronger than before; a common trick is to repeatedly take a hammer to them, in order to build up their strength for fighting. Some question the morality of this, but the Axew don't seem to mind any more than would anyone having a tooth pulled without anaesthetic; I personally don't see anything wrong with it.

o_O No comments.

Lifespan: Around thirty years, but close to eighty if evolved once; if matured to Haxorus, they will probably outlast you with a maximum lifespan of one hundred and eighty years. Even for a Dragon-type, this is exceptional, and research is currently being undertaken to find out precisely what it is that confers such longevity upon them.

It won't outlast me! [One hundred eighty years later...] *skull falls from skeleton*

Ominous.

Snubbull (Phobocanis incisivus) is famed for two things: its ferocious face and its charmingly affectionate nature. In truth, it is not an eager fighter, and mainly relies on its naturally frightening appearance to scare off its enemies. However, when it does engage in battle, it is very capable, and possesses a remarkably strong bite. I remember that I once saw a Snubbull bite clean through a man's shin; it was around that time that I decided I probably needed a change of career.

Yeah, waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too realistic.

Outside of battle, Snubbull is very playful; it is fond of children (in the socially acceptable way, not the way that Lombre is fond of children).

O.O

Housing: In the home, like a dog or a slave-child.

_ERROR:_EYES_TOO_BIG_FOR_REPRESENTATION_

The most 'friendly' of all the Psychic-type Pokémon, Ralts (Psychovorus familiaris) is always a firm favourite with beginners. When it forms a bond with a human, it does so for life; this is commonly mistaken for friendship, but this is not so: Ralts is a parasitic emotivore – that is to say, it attaches itself to a person and feeds on their emotions.

Yeah, really way too much realistic.

Do not let this put you off, however. Because they can only feed on positive feelings, and because their only source of them is you, they have a vested interest in keeping you alive and happy, and will do whatever they have to in order to ensure you stay that way. For the Trainer, of course, this means winning battles – and this, combined with their high intelligence, means they are very easy to train.

Okay, that is weird.

Diet: Not a problem; they feed themselves. If you find yourself suffering depression, however, I recommend having the Ralts removed. This can be done easily and inexpensively with a small-calibre handgun.

Now that is scary.

Evolution: This occurs when Ralts has stored enough energy to invest in transformation. Further evolution to Gardevoir occurs in the same way; however, if you use a Dawn Stone on it and turn it to a Gallade, you must be wary of the fact that the parasitic link is severed: Gallade actively hunts emotion, splitting open its prey's head with its blades and draining the feelings away directly.

Now that is a lot more scarier.

But is awesome. A bit scary, but awesome. So, having a Gallade is a bad idea, and Haxorus are good. Okay, gotcha.

See ya.


DiZ out.
 

Knightfall

Blazing Wordsmith
I really should have been here alot earlier, I blame laziness.

Amazing, wonderful, fantastic, COMPLETELY AWESOME!

Every chapter makes me laugh, though the reason for my laughter is probably enough to get me sent to....someplace rather unpleasent, where I'm sure Coriolanus will be too. ;)

My favorites have to be the one on Pokemon for farming, and this chapter.
As with your other fic, I will never look at Pokemon the same way again. Thank you for all the advice.

Now, Rowland. I would like to meet him sometime, he seems like an interesting guy. A lot like Puck really.

So...PM list please.

Knightfall signing off...;005;
 
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Cutlerine

Gone. Not coming back.
Even without an actual story, or characters outside of Cornelius, you have without a doubt the most well developed narrator I've ever seen (outside of a few first person stories, and of course the Adventure of Adventureness, which is another matter entirely) in a work fan-fiction.

Right now, as there are only two pages, it doesn't matter much, but if you ever get more than a few pages stacked up, I would suggest putting a link to the most recent chapter in your PMs.

Slightly off topic, but I thought I would wish you and Pokemon Snakewood good luck on HOTY at Pokecommunity.

Anyway, keep up the good work!

-TA

Yeah, this isn't really a Pokémon guide book, is it? I mean, I enjoy making all that stuff up, but the main focus of the thing is Coriolanus - who is possibly my favourite of all the first-person narrators I've ever created.

You're right about the link thing; I'll bear that in mind for the future.

And thank you for your unexpected Snakewood support. I think we might need the luck; we did look to come in second, but then Light Platinum suddenly shot up about ten votes ahead of us. Gah. Fancy graphics seem to win over crazy storyline every time.

Anyway, thanks.

But is awesome. A bit scary, but awesome. So, having a Gallade is a bad idea, and Haxorus are good. Okay, gotcha.

That's about the gist of it. Although Haxorus, if angered, probably eviscerate their Trainers on a regular basis. I suppose I ought to have mentioned that.

I really should have been here alot earlier, I blame laziness.

Amazing, wonderful, fantastic, COMPLETELY AWESOME!

Every chapter makes me laugh, though the reason for my laughter is probably enough to get me sent to....someplace rather unpleasent, where I'm sure Coriolanus will be too. ;)

My favorites have to be the one on Pokemon for farming, and this chapter.
As with your other fic, I will never look at Pokemon the same way again. Thank you for all the advice.

Now, Rowland. I would like to meet him sometime, he seems like an interesting guy. A lot like Puck really.

So...PM list please.

Knightfall signing off...;005;

You've been added.

I suppose you could compare Coriolanus to Puck, but I'd argue that the similarity isn't as marked as all that. I mean, I'm not sure Coriolanus has a sense of humour, for one thing; I don't envisage any of his jokes as being intentional.

Something I've been wondering about. In Rowland's real world/Pokemon world universe, do Poké Balls exist at all? Because they do in almost all other Pokémon media and are the main (if not only) option for housing Pokémon, and you've never so much as mentioned them.

I know, I know. I'm sort of ignoring Poké Balls for my own convenience, because there's no fun in writing the 'Housing' section if they're in common use. I suppose that my answer would go like this: Poké Balls are a device used by Trainers for transporting Pokémon, but not for housing them permanently. I can't see any animal rights group advocating keeping Pokémon crammed into golf-ball-sized containers all the time, can you?

Anyway, I haven't really thought about it, mostly because it's inconvenient to do so. I might address that in the next chapter, actually.
 

Hilijix

Back in Blue
I really like this so far. I honestly like fics that are like guides.

You make some Pokemon more interesting than usual, and some more scary. I may never look at a male Combee the same way again o_O

I also like how Coriolanus frequently bashes the Professors for making incorrect statements, like Pidgeotto's weight thing. Considering how much work he puts into getting this information, he probably is better than them.

I do have a question though- why do so many Pokemon die of heart failure? Do they just have abnormal hearts?

Keep up the good work!
 

Cutlerine

Gone. Not coming back.
Eh, heart failure's more common than you'd think. If you're abnormally angry (vide Throh and Sawk), you might well have a heart attack; if you're very old and are forced to fight for your life (vide an ancient Sandshrew), it's fairly likely that your heart will give out. I use heart failure a lot because there's quite a lot of things that might trigger it, to be honest.

When researching this, I get seriously annoyed with the Pokédex, hence Coriolanus' infuriation with the Professors. It just makes no sense: how can Aggron, which is made of steel and rock, weigh only 793 pounds? They're about the size of a car, and made of heavier materials - and a car weighs two tons. The Pokédex consistently gives Pokémon weights as far too low or far too high, as well as often making certain large Pokémon much smaller than they ought to be. (There's no way Groudon is just eleven feet tall. No way.) So I guess I try and bring everything in line with the same weird brand of logic that runs through the whole of this story, and re-invent the Pokédex.

Anyway, I'm glad you like it. I should have a new chapter up relatively soon, which'll be exciting and such.
 

Cutlerine

Gone. Not coming back.
Turns out that 'soon' meant 'next year'. Huh. Happy New Year, guys.

Leisure and Sport

If one can use it for murder, one can use it for fun: Pokémon, ever adaptable, are as useful in the field of recreation as they are in that of large-scale destruction. There are some species stoic enough to play the straight man at the circus, and others intelligent enough to grasp the rules of soccer; there are even some that are perfectly capable of beating humans at poker. (It turns out Slowking have no tell.) And if there is one thing that science has taught us, it is that if we can do something then we ought to do it, and preferably before anyone has a chance to ruin our fun with clinical trials.

So, what sort of qualities are we looking for in a leisure Pokémon? It all depends on how we're using it. The circus requires something outwardly ferocious yet in actuality rather tame, or something that looks amusing; sport, something with speed, stamina and intelligence, yet not so much strength that it breaks the other competitors; chess or cards, something with a large intellect and preferably without the physical strength to back it up if it comes to a fight.

This obviously encompasses a very large range of creatures, and so for the sake of brevity I shall only include five of the most popular at the time of writing. I must advise, however, against the use of Luxray in the circus: all too often, they are seen as a more exciting alternative to lions, when in fact they are far more dangerous, being so sure of their superiority to humans that nothing short of execution can deter them from treating us as prey. Though there are a fair few humans who espouse this attitude as well, it cannot be allowed in circus animals and inevitably leads to a spate of violent deaths.

In addition to this, I have noted with alarm the rise in the use of Yanma as beaters in the world of hunting. Though their loud wingbeats and high speed mean they are adept at alarming game, they lack the intelligence to comprehend that this is where they should stop, and tend to regard all the animals that appear as their prey. This has led to a large number of incidents in which Yanma have contested the kills of the shooters, and owing to their ability to fly horizontally, backwards and vertically while still accelerating, most hunters are not good enough shots to take them out before they reach their throats. It is best to stick to dogs, Growlithe or unimportant people for use as beaters.

*

Gothitelle

Moody, introspective and otherwise similar to the average human teenager, Gothitelle (Futuravidens juniperi) should by now be familiar to anyone with a television set: famously represented by the specimen known as Elise, they are accomplished chess and poker players, and their tournaments are broadcast throughout the Western world. The really good ones are worth thousands, and earn their owners thousands more through their victories; unfortunately, the vast majority, like many humans, have either no talent or no interest in competitive gambling, and so do not do nearly as well.

The real trick is finding a good one before anyone else, and there are certain ways to tell: when purchasing a Gothita (for you must raise a Gothitelle from its youth in order for it to acknowledge you as its master), you should conspicuously set down your wallet or mobile phone unguarded. The one that steals it is the one to go for: that will be the one who is interested enough in reward and personal gain to bother to learn how to play.

Keeping and training a Gothitelle (or even a Gothita) is much like raising a small child with the mood swings and vanity of a teenager and enough psychic power to crush a child's head without touching it: in other words, fraught with difficulty, and occasionally fatal. We are firmly out of Eevee territory here; this is more akin to keeping a tiger.

What should one do? For a start, work around the Gothitelle. If it is tired, stop training; if it is hungry, let it eat. A spoiled Gothitelle is a happy Gothitelle, which is infinitely more desirable than an angry Gothitelle. It is also more likely to actually try to win tournaments for you; if they don't get what they want, they tend to deliberately use out of spite.

Gothitelle do have the added benefit of being able to imprison people within dreams generated by their own memories, something that I gather is of considerable use to supervillains.

Diet: It is uncertain what Gothitelle actually eat, since no one has ever observed them eating, and autopsy has never revealed any trace of a stomach. Recently their discoverer, Professor Aurea Juniper of Nuvema University, has suggested that they do not actually exist in a physical sense, instead being a form of sentient shared hallucination. As yet, the scientific community has not yet come to a consensus as to the truth of this.

Housing: In the home, like a person. If treated as anything other than a member of the family they may well decide to be your enemy, which is never a good thing.

Size:
They exhibit sexual dimorphism: males are usually around five feet tall and females can reach six feet, although it is rare to see any taller than five foot six.

Lifespan: About thirty years.

Evolution: Very necessary. For a Gothitelle to even consider trusting you, you must raise it from a Gothita, to give yourself the maximum possible time to prove to it that it is in its best interests to work with rather than against you.

Breeding: You can lead a horse to water, but you cannot make it drink; much the same thing is true for Gothitelle and potential mates. Like humans, they are usually rather selective about their breeding partners, searching for the most beautiful with unwavering diligence and optimism. Their standards of beauty, interestingly, do not correlate with those of humans; they prize thinness of the limbs above all things, signifying as it does that the Gothitelle in question has such powerful mental powers that it barely uses its arms or legs. They then require a brief period of courtship, after which they have a short but extremely passionate love affair. After this, the two Gothitelle go their separate ways and refuse to see each other ever again.

Acquisition:
They live in small family groups in Unova, deep within the forests near Nimbasa; there are a few specialist breeders around, but not many. You could always try Dorian's in Castelia.

*

Marshtomp

No longer as timorous as a Mudkip and not yet as murderous as Swampert, Marshtomp (Tylocrocodilia gigantea) is the thinking man's circus animal: flamboyant, impressive and very, very stupid. It will happily stand there while someone pushes a custard pie into its face, or trips it up in the ring. Alternatively, it is happy to wrestle someone – but equally happy to lose on demand. As long as it is fed every day and is allowed to sit motionless in muddy water every so often, it will remain happy and generally well-disposed to all those around it.

With a temperament like this, it is a wonder that any Marshtomp reach maturity – but that would be forgetting that they do, of course, evolve into the most feared swamp predator in Hoenn, and that buried deep within their primitive brains is a crafty and violent predatory instinct. If you do manage to offend your Marshtomp (and it can be done) then it will do its best to drag you down to the bottom of its pond and simultaneously beat and drown you. To avoid this undesirable turn of events, I suggest not doing anything to your Marshtomp that will definitely cause it real physical pain, as it will usually take this as a sign of aggression. Anything short of this is classified as 'play' by most specimens.

There is very little else to say about Marshtomp. If treated well, something that is easy to achieve, they are tame, docile and otherwise content with whatever their lot in life may be. The only reason I cannot recommend it as a house pet is its prodigious strength (do not make the mistake of teaching it to high-five; I have already explored that avenue, and discovered that it leads to nothing but shattered wrists) and insatiable appetite for raw flesh and horsetails, a unique and rather expensive diet, especially considering how much of the stuff it can get through in a week.

Diet: As mentioned above, this is quite a problem. If allowed to, it simply won't stop eating; it prefers meat, but likes to supplement its diet with horsetails for no adequately explained reason. Since both of these are produced by the average Haxorus farm (see the article concerned for more information) you may wish to place a standing order.

Housing: A large pit is the best solution, lined with metal or concrete to prevent them burrowing out. They do not like to live in groups, and it is better to keep them alone.

Size: Between three and four feet long, not counting their large fins, which may add anything up to two feet onto their length. Do not be deceived by their relatively small size: they are incredibly strong, and perfectly capable of killing their trainers if they want to. Wrestling matches need to be carefully choreographed.

Lifespan: Around twenty years, though they can live for longer if they evolve.

Evolution: Not desirable. Swampert are among the top predators in Hoenn, possessing immense bulk and strength, and the bull-headed brave idiocy to best capitalise on it. In that sense, they are rather like a number of professional sports players, though more prone to devouring people who come near them.

Breeding: The spring rains bring Marshtomp into the mood to mate, and for the first couple of months of the season they will search tirelessly for a partner. If they find none, they will settle down again; if they do find one, however, they will perform a rather beautiful courtship dance that is wholly out of character for such clumsy amphibians. After this, the pair will retreat down into their pond, where the female will release a cloud of up to thirty eggs and then leave the male to fertilise and guard them. This makes Marshtomp one of the few amphibians to guard its young – although the father will lose interest when his progeny hatch. He will regain it a few weeks later, though it will by then be a purely gastronomic concern, and he will eat them if he finds them. It is prudent to collect the young and raise them yourselves.

Acquisition: It is said that Professor Alan Birch of the Littleroot Research Facility recently conducted some research into Marshtomp breeding behaviour that has left him with approximately 900 baby Mudkip on his hands; he would probably be grateful if someone were to take some away. Alternatively, you could try one of the stores in Fortree City, where the dangers of jungle predators such as Swampert are well known, and which is therefore built entirely in the treetops.

*

Zorua

Perhaps the only Pokémon that is truly capable of providing limitless entertainment, Zorua (Nigerovulpus umbra) is, along with its mature form Zoroark, one of the most unusual Pokémon so far discovered. In appearance, it simply appears to be a small, slightly rotund black fox – but that is only when its illusions are broken, and these illusions are the basis of their practical applications.

Zorua illusions are taking the world by storm: more immersive than even 3D television or cinema, they are the very latest thing in entertainment. They function by using the power of several Zorua to generate a large illusion all around the viewer, placing them inside whatever story they are currently viewing. In other words, these small, nondescript foxes can generate an entire virtual reality without the need for expensive computer equipment, or for technology that does not quite exist yet. I visited an illusion theatre last week, purely in the spirit of scientific inquiry; they were showing the illusion version of Jurassic Park, and I have to say that actually being on the island made events considerably more exciting than in the film version, even if several members of the audience did come rather close to being eaten by the raptors.

As the world is still just on the brink of the Zorua entertainment revolution, there are relatively few illusion theatres out there, and there are fortunes to be made in setting them up now, just in time to catch the point at which they become the dominant form of entertainment. Never mind that some research links repeated prolonged exposure to Zorua illusions to brain cancer; never mind that overuse of illusion may turn out to lead to a loss of the ability to distinguish fantasy and reality; this new area of entertainment is a goldmine, and the discerning miner needs to get there ahead of the rush.

Zorua are relatively intelligent – more so than most dogs – and have excellent sensory memories, meaning that they are capable of remembering most of a film after it has been shown to them just one or two times. From this memory, they can be trained to reconstruct the experience as an illusion; for large-scale theatre productions, this will probably require at least ten or fifteen Zorua. Resist the temptation to use Zoroark, despite their superior illusion-making powers: they will always slowly warp the illusion into a dark and terrifying horror show, with the intent of driving those within it mad with fear in order to make them easier to catch and kill.

I recall one such incident in London a few months ago; while watching a heart-warming rendition of Love Actually, the Zoroark backstage began sending various sinister messages to the characters, who slowly became more and more paranoid until they joined together and committed group suicide in a most brutal and unpleasant way that involved far too many eggs for a Christmas film. By this point, the audience were desperately trying to get out, but were suffering the illusion that the doors were blocked by heaps of corpses, and three of them were killed and dragged away by the Zoroark before the police turned up – whereupon the illusion, and the Pokémon generating it, vanished. Owing to the excellent powers of disguise common to its species, that particular Zoroark is still at large somewhere in the city; the police did ask me as a specialist to help them search for it, but I politely refused, since the police and I have something of a history, and ever since the incident in Ealing I've taken great pleasure in watching them struggle.

Zorua is a relatively recent discovery, having been hidden from the world for a long time by its illusions; this is why these theatres are only now attaining widespread popularity. Now that they are in the process of doing so, it seems likely that they are here to stay.

Diet: In the wild, Zorua feed on large insects and small mammals; I suggest a balanced diet that incorporates all three food groups: squishy bugs, bony rodents and hard-shelled bugs. Caterpie, rats and Karrablast is the usual solution.

Housing:
They are physically rather frail, relying on their illusions both to lure in prey and drive away predators; they are therefore rather sedentary, and do not need a large space to run around in. This has the advantage of allowing a battery-farm-style system to be set up, where your Zorua live in small, stacked containers in the back room of the theatre. It should be noted that they should be let out of this room and the door to it concealed whenever an animal welfare inspector visits.

Size: Vulpine.

Lifespan: Seven to twelve years, just long enough to see in a good dozen major blockbusters. However, those in illusion theatres appear to have a reduced lifespan for some reason.

Evolution: Zorua evolve only if placed under extreme stress; be careful not to agitate one too much, or you will end up with a Zoroark on your hands – which means increased intelligence, strength and cunning, which in turn means decreased life expectancy. For you.

Breeding: Unfortunately, Zorua are rather coy in captivity; this is the only serious downside to running an illusion theatre, since they do not often breed. This may have something to do with their living conditions; I am right now in the process of carrying out an experiment to see if Zorua kept in battery conditions breed any less readily than Zorua kept in virgin forest, and expect results as soon as I can find the ones I put in the forest.

Acquisition: Since they are native to Unova, there is naturally a stock at Dorian's; however, they can also be acquired (for an exorbitant sum) in the major cities of America and Japan, where illusion theatres have taken off in a big way.

*

Liepard

Once, a circus could boast a pack of ferocious lions; now, with the rise of animal welfare laws, the closest one can get – and it is an admirable substitute – is a Liepard (Prionailurus imperator). The largest known species of leopard cat, and the only one to count as a Pokémon, Liepard is a lithe and dangerous beast, adept at appearing at unsettling times and striking down its victims from behind. I recall once waking up in the middle of the night in an Unovan motel to see a Liepard sitting calmly at the end of the bed, staring at me with unblinking eyes. We looked at each other for a moment, and then, without any warning or provocation, I shot it in the head. It now serves as an impressive rug in my drawing-room.

That is beside the point: we are interested in the potential applications of Liepard in the circus. It actually enjoys being in close proximity to humans, and many specimens are unspeakably vain; these two points have led to legislation that make it legal to use it in circus acts, as long as it is not abused – and indeed, the man who tries to abuse a Liepard is a fool, for they have long memories and creative imaginations. I remember reading about one occasion on which a Liepard that took a dislike to its trainer got its revenge a full twelve years later, at the grand old age of twenty, by swallowing a pint of kerosene and dying halfway through a stunt involving a jump through a ring of fire, which resulted, predictably enough, in a rather spectacular end to the evening's festivities.

If you can manage its vanity and occasional murderousness, however, Liepard are an excellent legal substitute for lions in today's circuses, and well worth the investment.

Diet: Meat, most commonly rabbits and trainers who offend them.

Housing: If fed and kept entertained by their training, they don't move much, and so do not require too much room; if they are restless, it is because they are bored, and if they are bored, it is a sign that they may soon go on a killing spree. Since you will probably want to avoid this (although it can serve as a useful smokescreen if you need to commit a murder yourself) you should probably aim to keep them occupied.

Size: They are, as previously stated, the largest of the leopard cats, and can reach twenty-four inches at the shoulder, placing them at a similar sort of size to a snow leopard.

Lifespan: Ten to fifteen years in captivity, although some have been recorded at twenty. In the wild, they rarely live past six or seven.

Evolution: Purrloin could be kept as a domestic pet, but, being childish and immature, it is even more fickle and prone to betrayal than Liepard, and could well decide to chew its owner's throat out during the night. No, stick to the Liepard, and keep the species well out of the home.

Breeding: Fairly easy; once a Liepard has mated once, it will go and immediately have an affair to spite its partner. This results in the most duplicitous Liepard having the most offspring and being the most evolutionarily successful, which accounts for the treacherous nature of the species as a whole.

Acquisition: They are found throughout South-East Asia, though they were accidentally introduced into Unova by the British in the nineteenth century; consequently, they are in good supply worldwide.

*

Jynx

Long since trained in Johto for their skill at dancing, Jynx (Voluptas psychopomp) are ascribed the role of leading the recently deceased to the underworld in old Johtonian mythology, and one can easily see why: their dances are mesmerising, and can attract almost anyone to join in.

Today, their skills as dancers are in as much demand as ever, in a wide variety of situations; they are also excellent badminton players, since their erratic movements make them extremely difficult to predict. For some reason, they are recorded as doing especially well against male opponents.

Aside from these talents, Jynx are known for their peculiar language, a combination of words and dance that has been described as resembling High School Musical sung in a mixture of Spanish and Korean. It is thoroughly incomprehensible to all and sundry, but it hold a peculiar fascination for young children (especially girls) and linguists (especially men).

Jynx do not, on the whole, particularly like humans; they seem to regard the species as stupid, owing to the fact that we cannot understand what they say while they clearly can understand what we say. However, they have the advantage of mild telepathy to help them out, while we unfortunately do not (although I did once manage to convince a mob in Andorra that I could predict the future, which allowed me to make good my escape before they discovered the diamonds were missing). If raised in captivity from a young age, though, a Jynx will have no such reservations about humanity, having never learned the language of its species, and may even attempt to learn to speak English – though they don't appear to be capable of mastering the language. One or two has been reported to be fluent in Sinnish, but this hasn't been verified, and anyway, as I have said before, we must always take reports from Sinnoh with a pinch of salt, as it is a country of knaves and charlatans.

Diet:
Very little, considering their active lifestyle. They like fruits when in season, but not vegetables; in winter, they occasionally resort to eating meat to survive. Make sure your Jynx is well-fed during the cold seasons of the year: there are occasional reports of owners being partially or wholly consumed in countries such as Sweden. These may be exaggerations, and you can rest assured that I will be performing experiments with Jynx and migrant workers at various temperatures to test these stories.

Housing: Despite being Ice-types, Jynx do not particularly like the cold. They will live in it, and historically have had to because the warmer lands are already occupied (and jealously guarded) by humans, but they prefer to live indoors. They are highly intelligent – worryingly so, in fact, because some, the Einsteins of their species, insist on fully furnished apartments to live in, and leave their owners to try and become functioning members of society.

Size: Human, but broader, and with proportionally far larger eyes, hands, lips and breasts – the former two to find their way in the dark, and the latter two to seduce men, a commodity that their species lacks.

Lifespan: Thirty to forty years in the wild, but up to sixty in captivity.

Evolution: Smoochum is by definition immature; it is tiny, and far less skilled at dance and badminton than its evolved form. If you obtain your Jynx as a Smoochum (and ideally you should) then you should raise it to maturity.

Breeding: Mysterious. They are an all-female species, and seem to reproduce mostly by parthenogenesis; however, there are some reports from China that their scientists have had success breeding them with Machamp. The thought of the resultant offspring is enough to stop me ever visiting the country again, though presumably they make excellent bouncers.

Acquisition: They are found predominantly in Johto and Kanto, in the hills of the mountain range that divides the two nations. Specialist breeders exist in both countries, though the Johtonian ones have more of a history behind them, which some find reassuring.
 
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Thorndrop

Member
Absolutely love this. As mentioned already by others, the Vanilluxe part is hilarious, though others had me laughing too. If this is still ongoing, can you please add me to the PM list? I'd love to read more.
 

Cutlerine

Gone. Not coming back.
Absolutely love this. As mentioned already by others, the Vanilluxe part is hilarious, though others had me laughing too. If this is still ongoing, can you please add me to the PM list? I'd love to read more.

Oh, hey there! I noticed you'd posted here, went to check the Guide and realised I've written half of the next chapter and completely forgotten about it. So yeah! Sure, this is ongoing; I'll finish it up and get it posted. There's still quite a few chapters left in this yet.

And yes, I'll add you to the PM list. Thanks so much for reminding me I was writing this. How could I forget something like that?

F.A.B.
 

Cutlerine

Gone. Not coming back.
Pokémon for the Zoo

The zoological garden is a tradition that stretches back millennia; there were menageries in Rome and Babylon, and kings and potentates without number have put together collections of animals for their entertainment. However, adding Pokémon to the mix is often a dangerous move for the unwary; think of the Great Fire of Rome in AD 64, caused by an ill-starred attempt on Nero's part to add a pair of Charizard to his collection – or the collapse of the Rhodes Colossus in 226 BC, the work of a lone escaped Tyranitar.

It is obvious that there are some species that simply cannot be kept safely. We can add most of the dragons to these: Dragonite, Gyarados, Charizard, Garchomp and Hydreigon are all far too powerful to keep in the conventional sense. It is true that at least the first three of these species have been tamed (or perhaps 'rendered less wild' would be more accurate) by the reigning Indigo League Champion Lance Sørenson, the so-called Dragon Master, but it must be remembered that he is an exceptional case.

In addition to these species, we must add Tyranitar, the notoriously cantankerous and surprisingly small dinosaurian Pokémon; also Muk, which has an irritating habit of oozing through even small-mesh wire and subsequently engulfing visitors. I recall one zoo where they kept a Muk in a sealed glass container, which solved the issue; however, they could replenish neither its air nor its food, and consequentially it perished in the agonies of suffocation.

It seems there are plenty of Pokémon that one cannot keep – what of those that you can? The primary objective of the zoo is supposed to be to entertain, to research and to establish captive breeding populations for those creatures that are scarce in the wild; while such work is in theory to be commended, I shall pass over it here in favour of the way of thought that suggests a zoo ought to contain the biggest, most impressive and most beautiful animals, while keeping to a minimum of danger*.

How can one find a big, impressive Pokémon without it being dangerous? Even a small one could well kill a visitor if it felt like it; larger ones tend to be even more powerful, and less good-natured. This is a difficult question to answer, and my response to it after several years as a consultant in such matters is to build strong cages, don't encourage petting, and, if you can, get each visitor to sign an indemnity waiver as they enter the zoo. (I once knew someone who managed to get this trick into the ticket-buying process; fifty visitors a year arrived and never departed, and no one did a thing for four years, when the deaths stopped. Entirely coincidentally, that was when the zoo's Drapion died, apparently from a build-up of tooth fillings in its throat that choked it.)

Ultimately, what you want to consider is containability. A zoo Pokémon must, as has been mentioned, be large and impressive – and for your part, you must be able to contain it. Believe it or not, there are a few Pokémon that people will want to come and see that can be (relatively) safely held behind bars; it is with these, and a couple of the more tempting lethal ones, that I concern myself here.


Krookodile

Big, bad and dangerous to know, Krookodile (Suchomimus megoculus) is the first truly big predator that we will cover in this book. Approximately the same size as a grizzly bear – discounting, of course, their long tail and gigantic mouth – they are the terror of the Unovan desert, roving alone over the dunes in search of distant prey. They also have the advantage of having markings over their eyes that greatly resemble sunglasses, and this, coupled with their general fearsomeness, makes them rather popular in zoos.

As ever, though, there is a caveat: Krookodile are highly carnivorous, and in the wild have a reputation for not letting prey go once they've seen it; should yours escape, then it will most likely kill at least one visitor. It may regard the crowds of fleeing humans as something of a game laid on for its entertainment, and endeavour to see precisely how many it can kill; unless you particularly enjoy having your source of revenue closed down, you really ought to try and avoid this.

Of course, a Barrier-reinforced enclosure is a must, but there are further complications. Krookodile is a Dark type, and Barrier is a Psychic-type move; it will break through the bars far faster than other creatures of equivalent strength owing to the type advantage. In addition to this, its proximity continually wears down the Barrier even when it is not directly attacking it, and it will have to be reinforced frequently.

If your Krookodile does get out, though, you will have to take a different tactic. They are not overburdened with brainpower, and if you can present them with something confusing they will stop dead to ponder it. Given their extraordinary eyesight and ability to zoom in its vision, optical illusions work well; anything that appears to vibrate or wobble when stared at will make them completely forget what they were doing, and induce a trance-like state. Keeping the image in front of the Pokémon's eyes, you can then simply walk it back into its enclosure and patch up the fence. Do take care to remove the image afterwards, though, or they will remain staring at it until they starve to death.

Diet: Like crocodiles, Krookodile can go a long time without food; the less they are fed, however, the more torpid they will become, until eventually they enter a state of suspended animation and wait for more bountiful times. On the other hand, feeding them too much will fill them with enough energy that they will start wanting to chase things, especially visitors and unfortunate zookeepers. A steady stream of small meals is the way to go, with each meal being composed entirely of red meat – or interns, which are notably cheaper.

Housing: Strength is key. You will want essentially a flat dirt area with perhaps a tree or two to break the monotony and provide shade, but otherwise furnishings are unnecessary; the only real consideration with Krookodile is keeping them firmly behind bars. Do not make the common mistake of adding pools to its enclosure; it is not a crocodile, however much it might resemble one. Water makes it angry, and you would not like it when it is angry.

Size: Around two metres long from forehead to the hindquarters; double this if you include the long snout and tail.

Lifespan: Being members of the crocodile family, Krookodile are naturally long-lived; this is further compounded by their great size. They regularly reach seventy, and on occasion have been known to reach a century. Growth rings in the teeth of one Krookodile in the Castelia Zoo, known by staff as 'Methuselah', show that it is at least 120 years old, and possibly older.

Evolution: There is not much entertainment to be had in exhibiting Sandile, which are not nearly as impressive or indeed as active as Krookodile; they are also far more timid, and will spend most of their time hiding under the sand. If you wanted a good compromise between safety and awe factor, I would suggest Krokorok, but I would venture to suggest that he who chooses Krokorok is taking the coward's way out.

Breeding: Inadvisable. The female is fiercely protective of her eggs, and Sandile are possessed of emitting a certain shrill squeak that alerts all nearby adults of the species to the fact that they are in danger – and being so very nervous, are rather prone to using it. Since Krookodile have excellent hearing, entering the exhibit might well become impossible until the Sandile mature to Krokorok, at which point the parents will probably stalk and kill them. I am told that Krookodile breeders suffer a great many sleepless nights.

Acquisition: They are fairly common in zoos worldwide, and there are always new-bred captive specimens to be had via the zoo exchange network.

*

Golem

Three tons of stone with arms, legs and teeth, Golem (Lapicorpus ferox) are indisputably one of the single hardest species to contain in the world. Capable of breaking through almost any wall, burrowing through concrete and leaping over fences via explosive propulsion, they are a formidable threat to the stability of any zoo environment. For once, though, this is not because they are liable to eat guests; Golem are exclusively herbivorous, and rather gentle. No, the real danger is that their armour is so very strong that they do not care at all what obstacles lie in their path, and will cheerfully walk through walls and roll down streets, freeing other animals, crushing people and causing an enormously expensive amount of damage.

By this point, you are very probably wondering what has possessed me to include Golem in this book; it seems untameable, uncontainable, and generally undesirable. The answer is, of course, that properly-kept Golem are possibly the biggest source of money that your zoo will ever house. Once a year, the great spherical shell that houses their soft body collapses into its constituent boulders, to allow for further growth. (Golem steadily increase in size as they age, much like lobsters; also like lobsters, they appear to display negligible senescence.) The important thing here is that Golem shells are composed of a mixture of granite, calaverite and sylvanite – the latter two being gold-containing compounds. I doubt I need to spell out what this means for your zoo's finances, but I shall just point out that in this sort of situation, experience at embezzlement does come in handy.

Actually, I recall one instance where I was called in as a consultant for London Zoo, and managed to catch someone red-handed in the act of stealing gold ore; as I remember, I didn't hand him over to the authorities, but I did have to take an abrupt and lengthy holiday immediately afterwards.

Diet: The renowned Professor Oak holds that Golem and its relatives subsist solely on rocks, but has perhaps neglected to consider how much nourishment an animal can actually derive from stone. They do eat pebbles, it is true, but only to supplement their shells and to help grind the tough, fibrous plants they live on.

Housing: One would expect strength to be key here, but it is in fact cunning. Golem are rather dim-witted, and tend to solve most problems by rolling into them. They should be kept in pits, the sides of which are comprised of steep slopes set at an angle of precisely 56°. A tall, sturdy fence should be put up around the rim of this pit; while useless for containment purposes, it does prevent guests from falling in, which tends to be make for bad PR.

The system works on the premise that should the Golem attempt to roll up the slope, they will lose momentum and roll back down; should they attempt to roll through the slope, they will find themselves directed inexorably upwards (and then back down again) by the gradient. Some Golem are, of course, intelligent enough to realise that they can climb the slope with the aid of their strong claws and limbs, and in cases such as these you would do well to take a leaf from the books of such notable rulers as Idi Amin and Joseph Stalin, and have them executed as an example to the others.

Size:
They grow continually throughout their lives, but the shell-shedding process, which involves not only removing their outer carapace but the rocky lining of their throat, tends to kill a great many of them. Consequently, it is unlikely that you will ever see one above six or seven feet tall.

Lifespan: They tend not to make it past fifty years, though certain specimens have been recorded as up to one millennium. It seems that if they avoid illness and shedding-related fatalities, their lifespans are more or less unlimited.

Evolution: Golem are one of those Pokémon that react peculiarly to the energy fields of a Poké Ball, and when in the possession of a Trainer must therefore be traded to evolve; however, in their natural state (which, in a zoo, they will be) they mature naturally from Geodude through Graveler to Golem over the course of six years.

Breeding: Haphazard, to say the least. Being perfectly spherical with stubby limbs and no external genitalia makes copulation almost impossible for Golem, though it has to be said that watching them try is very entertaining. It resembles a game of self-propelled bowls, and usually results in at least one broken limb on the part of one participant.

Amusing as it may be, it is best to keep the sexes separate until they shed their shells – when, soft and fleshy, they can successfully mate without risk of injury.

Acquisition: Geodude are found worldwide in large quantities, and so all members of their family are relatively inexpensive. The real cost is in the housing – or, if you live in Northern Europe, where the Gigalith family have created a a Golem-free zone, the price of importing creatures that are tragically prone to scuttling cargo ships and destroying freight planes.

*

Kangaskhan

The last surviving giant marsupial of Australia, Kangaskhan (Simosthenurus deinognathus) is a familiar fixture in zoos and so-called 'Safari Zones' worldwide, where her massive bulk, imposing presence and surprising agility have made her as popular as the elephant or the lion. She is also, incidentally, the only Pokémon that I find holds any real attraction for me; my first ever experiment was conducted on a Kangaskhan, and yielded the valuable information that, deprived of any progeny to care for, these creatures do in fact seize the nearest smaller animal and maintain their sanity by pretending it is their child. (I think perhaps three weeks was longer than my wife would have liked the experiment to continue, but as I later told her, she had made an invaluable contribution to science.)

Kangaskhan are the largest species of kangaroo, and have forsaken the more familiar hop of their smaller cousins in favour of drastically increasing their bulk. Their size means that they lack all predators save the likes of Allan Quartermain; clinical trials have shown that bullets of a surprisingly large calibre simply lodge harmlessly in their skin and muscle. In fact, they hardly even feel anything below a .455 – though an overzealous assistant of mine did discover that most rocket-propelled grenades cause them serious injury. I believe it was at around this time that we had to leave the zoo.

Kangaskhan is a surprisingly peaceful creature, as long as her young is left alone, and will not give the cautious zookeeper too much trouble. However, as with many human single mothers, the pressure of looking after her baby will get to her at times, and she will abandon it as far away from herself as possible while she spends a few days letting off steam by means of senseless violence and occasional heavy alcoholism. This is actually the basis for an interesting phenomenon explored at greater length in the 'Breeding' section, but for now I shall content myself with cautioning you not to allow any alcoholic beverages near the Kangaskhan enclosure, or she will stop at nothing to get at them.

Diet: Exclusively herbivorous. A large proportion of their bulk is gut, for the digestion of the tough shrubs they habitually eat.

Housing: Though their large size means they need a certain amount of space, I do not recommend you give them too much, or they may end up not finding their young again after abandoning them – which has detrimental effects on both mother and child.

Size: Seven or eight feet tall, though the herd matriarch often reaches nine.

Lifespan: Thirty to forty years.

Evolution: Khubb evolve into Kangaskhan slowly during the third year of their life, if not abandoned. However, if the mother fails to take them back after a few days, their bodies rapidly degenerate owing to a lack of the essential nutrients they gain from their mother's milk. The skin flakes from their face, as does the majority of the muscle; after a few days, most of their skull is exposed, and the necrosis has spread across their body, leaving it brown and decaying. This form is known as a Cubone, and is a famous looter of graves for bones to use as weapons; oddly enough, it does not die, but evolves further into a beast known as Marowak, which is ninety per cent grave earth and ten per cent nightmare fuel. In order to ensure your visitors actually return for a second visit, or indeed to prevent them being stalked and killed, you may wish to ensure that any unattended Khubb are returned to their mothers before they begin to display any symptoms of necrosis.

Breeding: No male Kangaskhan has ever been discovered. They appear to reproduce solely by parthenogenesis, though they seem to have unusually labile DNA that means there is always a little genetic variation between them and their offspring. As for breeding a Marowak; well, at the time of writing, no one has yet dared to try.

Acquisition: Easy enough. Kangaskhan are so common in zoos and safari parks across the world, and so readily bred, that plenty are available on the exchange programme.

*

Galvantula

Large, spectacular, and incredibly dangerous is the theme of this chapter, and Galvantula (Fulgorachne unovana) does not buck the trend. With a maximum legspan of nine feet, they are capable of tackling prey as large as an Unovan hippopotamus – though they rarely attack directly. They belong to the trap-laying family of spiders rather than the hunting, and prefer to play with their food before eating it.

It is inevitable that your Galvantula will fill their enclosure with their characteristic pale yellow webs, and so I must recommend full-body insulation for the keeper who looks after them: each web is connected via a series of slender strings to the Galvantula's main nest, where it sits and waits to feel the vibrations of whatever hapless creature stumbles into one of the traps. This in itself would not be cause for insulation, except that Galvantula's response to these vibrations is to send pulses of electricity down the lines, repeatedly electrocuting the hapless victim in the web.

At this point, the spider likes to emerge from hiding to watch its prey twitch; it seems that it enjoys the convulsions the electrical discharge induces. For this reason, Galvantula also take pleasure in watching interpretive dance, although they do tend to assume that the dancers are trapped prey and therefore fair game to eat. There is even one specimen in Antwerp that appears to have some appreciation of ballet, though this seems to have arisen from the fact that it has lived exclusively on swan for its entire life. Attempts by dancers' unions to have it put down – or at least barred from the theatres – have failed; nicknamed 'Danserverslinder', or dancer devourer, it has become something of a national icon, much beloved of the public for no adequately explained reason.

Diet: They aren't fussy. Once their prey is finally dead, they inject concentrated enzymes into them and reduce their insides to a drinkable consistency. If you overfeed them they will build up a larder of stored corpses, which tends to cause nightmares in the public and subsequent loss of revenue; therefore, I recommend one Royal Bengal tiger per week per group of three. If you belong to that group of people who don't have ready access to large quantities of illegally-imported Royal Bengal tigers, I suggest cows.

Housing: Galvantula are excellent climbers and very capable diggers, and can hang from almost any surface; for this reason, they must be kept behind plate glass, or they will certainly make their way out when they tire of the scenery. Males are solitary, but females will happily live in groups of three or four, ideal for display.

Size: Up to nine feet across the legs.

Lifespan:
Like many tarantulas, they are rather long-lived for an arthropod; they take eleven years to fully mature, and females may live for many years afterwards. (Males die soon after mating, and so do not often survive past five.) The oldest on record died at the age of thirty-four, but most live for eighteen to twenty years.

Evolution: Joltik take a year or two to develop into Galvantula. During this childhood period, though, they are much more active and characterful – even displaying signs of affection. Unfortunately, this prompts some to buy them as house pets, with the predictable result that in eighteen months' time they end up dancing the electric tarantella hanging from the ceiling of their attic.

Breeding: As simple as introducing a male to the enclosure. It will mate with each female in turn, then attempt to leave. At this point, it is probably best to put it down, as it will slow down, lose its hair and perish within a month, its life's work accomplished. There are a great many retired men who I wish would follow the same principle; I intend to do so myself on completion of this book.

Acquisition: They are found throughout Unova, though the fossil record shows a sister species once existed in Iceland. No one is entirely certain why this species died out; it was larger, faster, more cunning and longer-lived than its Unovan counterpart, and the top Icelandic predator. The prevailing theory at present is that it got bored.

*

Druddigon

The third Unovan predator of the list is also, surprisingly, the least dangerous. Druddigon (Bucerebrum gargouille) is naturally a lethargic creature, being a very primitive species of dragon that lacks the warm blood of its more advanced cousins (think of Dragonite or Salamence, for instance). Its 'wings' are in fact thermoregulatory devices similar to the famous sail of Dimetrodon or the plates of Stegosaurus – the predecessors of the wings of present-day dragons and Dragon-types.

Because it spends so much of its time warming itself in the sun, Druddigon is only active in the afternoon, when it is capable of moving at speed to chase down prey. For the rest of the day, it will sit on its haunches at the highest point it can find, wings spread and head lowered in the pose that has since been adopted as that of the Gothic gargoyle. It can remain utterly immobile like this for hours on end – though if a large enough crowd gathers, many specimens like to jerk suddenly into life and leap forwards, roaring loudly. It is best to keep the elderly and those with cardiac conditions away from Druddigon's quarters.

Though usually placid (after becoming habituated to their keepers, some specimens will even consent to being fed by hand) Druddigon can be roused to an extraordinary state of rage if something angers them. While under the bloodlust, as it is referred to in the business, they will attempt – and very usually succeed – to destroy everything they can find, including (but not limited to) the furnishings of their enclosure, the walls of their enclosure, their keepers, the guests, the other animals and, if you happen to be on-site, you. Since their natural tolerance for pain is dramatically increased during this state, they are almost unstoppable, and the only way to do so is either to kill them or to break their limbs.

Thankfully, this state may easily be avoided. All you have to do is avoid annoying the Druddigon. This means not coming too close to it when it wants to be alone, not allowing guests to crowd around the enclosure when it is trying to sleep, not feeding it too little, not feeding it too much, keeping any annoying biting insects away from it, remembering to serve its food at precisely the same temperature as its body, not staring into its eyes, not baring your teeth in its presence, keeping it cool in summer and warm in winter, and making sure that no other animal ever upstages it. If you avoid these minor inconveniences, then there should be no problems whatsoever.

Diet: Anything with a pulse. Not being particularly intelligent, Druddigon tends to let its stomach do the thinking and will happily attack even enemies many times its size.

Housing: Whatever you use to contain it, a Druddigon under the bloodlust will break it; consequently, it is best to use its natural laziness against it, and make its enclosure as comfortable as possible. Make sure it can be higher than everyone else, preferably on an imposing rock, and it will be loath to move.

Size: Five feet at the shoulder, and about nine overall.

Lifespan: As with most Dragon-types, Druddigon are naturally long-lived, typically maturing by the age of thirty and reaching one hundred and twenty before dying.

Evolution: Not applicable.

Breeding: Owing to their sandpaper-like skin, Druddigon avoid mating if at all possible; this is probably the cause of their rarity. If you want to breed them, I suggest keeping a fire extinguisher handy; the friction tends to cause them to catch fire.

Acquisition: They are to be found throughout Europe, in the mountainous areas favoured by their species. Occasionally, they turn up in cities, which, like rock doves and peregrines falcons, they seem to mistake for cliffs. These sorts of mistakes usually have tragic consequences, like Madinat az-Zahra or Pompeii.


*You may choose to disagree with me here. After all, if there is one Scolipede loose in the zoo and no one knows where it is, it does keep both guests and staff on their toes, which may be ideal if you don't wish them to linger.
 
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Pokemonpal7

Jungle Ninja
I began reading this on Pokecommunity, and I was quite surprised when I found it here, too. This is great! I also love the dark humour in this, it's extremely entertaining and I would also like to be on the PM list, please! :D
 

Gelatino95

Not a tool
Breeding: Owing to their sandpaper-like skin, Druddigon avoid mating if at all possible; this is probably the cause of their rarity. If you want to breed them, I suggest keeping a fire extinguisher handy; the friction tends to cause them to catch fire.[/SIZE]

This part made me crack up, if only for the image it put in my head.
 

Thorndrop

Member
Again, I feel the need to mention how much I love your dark sense of humour.
I admit I rolled my eyes when you first mentioned 'Khubb' (Fakemon... oh joy...), but I think it worked quite well. The little details make this thing good. :)
 

Knightfall

Blazing Wordsmith
Oh, how I have missed these. The dark humor I laugh at (and therefore will eventually have to pay for) returns!

The Kangaskhan entry was by far the best this time. The part with the rocket propelled granade forced me to walk away from my computer for a minute before I could continue.
As the others have said, I loved the theory of Cubone's origin...I will never look at the species the same way again. Thanks for that by the way.

Yet another brilliant chapter for this guide,

Knightfall signing off...;005;
 
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