The PokeSlinger

[Alastor DMc]

Hey everyone. This is my 3rd fic, and I'm still working on Project: c145h, I just wanted to take a break from it and write something a little different. This story is a bit more mature, and I'd proabably rate it R, for some nudity, sex, and violence. If any of these things bother you, then I don't suggest reading the story. For everyone else, please enjoy.



Chapter 1



The man in the black cape crossed the desert, and the pokeslinger followed. The pokeslinger had been following the man in the black cape for… what? How many years had it been since he set out on this journey? He could only tell that time was marching on because he was slowing down. That’s what happens when you grow old.

He was well into his fifties. Had to be, but you couldn’t tell by looking at him. No, had you looked at him, you’d think he was much older. The harsh winds of the endless desert had aged his skin pre-maturely, and the fact that he smoked, when he could didn’t help either. Yet, as long as the man in the black cape would continue forward, the pokeslinger would continue to follow.



“Dodger, use sand storm!” cried a young boy, of maybe fourteen. He was about five and a half feet tall, with sandy brown hair and a very dark complexion. He’d lived in a very hot area his entire life, and as a result, earned himself quite a tan. What he was doing was standing in what he called, ‘The Meadow’ even though there wasn’t a blade of grass for miles. He lived in a small village in the middle of a desert waste-land. There was a river, and the river had some of the tastiest water for miles. Actually, it had the only water for miles. It was here that he lived with his pokemon.

He was four years old when he first saw a pokemon. They weren’t common in the area, considering life pretty much came out here to die, not to thrive. When he was four however, he was out for a visit to the meadow when an orange ant like monster jumped up from under the ground. It smiled at him, with a big dopey smile. He was scared of it at first, but then the monster became friendlier and moved closer to him. He nuzzled his bare feet, and sniffed him, the way a puppy might. The boy bent down to pick up the strange orange monster and hurried back to his village.

“Momma! Momma! Come quick!” he called. He ran into his house, which had only a thin sheet for a door. The house itself was small, tiny in fact. It had three rooms, a living room and two bedrooms. Food was cooked outside on an open barbeque, and the bathroom was taken care of outside, where ever you could find a place to be alone. Inside the living room were a handmade wooden table and chairs, and an old rug. There were a few pots, for collecting water and a single green plant, which produced big red and fat spiky tomato like berries, called ‘Tamato Berries.’ This, was their major source of food.

“What have you got there, Gabalin?” The boy’s name was Gabalin. It meant ‘hawk’ in the old tongue of his mother’s mother’s mother. He father was also named Gabalin, but his father was no longer with them. He had died a few months prior to Gabalin’s birth. The mother was beautiful. She had long dark black hair, and skin as gold as her son’s. Her face was very young as well, which was surprising considering the amount of strain this poor woman had gone through, loosing her husband and raising a son on her own, in a poor village in the middle of the desert.

Gabalin showed his mother the small orange ant like pokemon in his hands, and like the first time he had seen Gabalin, the pokemon smiled at the mother. He opened his mouth and let out a squeaky bark, much like a puppy. Mother was surprised at first, then warmed up to him and began to pet his smooth orange head. “This is a trapinch, sweetheart.”

“Trapinch? Can I keep him!?” Gabalin’s face lit up and shown brightly at his mother, who couldn’t help but say yes. It was on that day that Gabalin and his Trapinch, which he named Dodger, became inseparable.

Ten years had gone by, however, and Dodger like Gabalin had grown up. He had evolved, one day a long time ago, into a vibrava, a much more insect like pokemon. It resembled a dragonfly, with emerald green wings and tail and a beige body. Dodger zipped through the air, spinning around in a whirl wind, whipping up a cloud of sand. “Great job, Dodger! Now try a Dragon Breath!”

Dodger stopped in the air and smiled back at Gabalin, then shot out a flame of gold that blew the sand storm away. Then he landed on the ground and barked at Gabalin, who ran over to his vibrava and picked him up into his arms. “That was great! You’re getting better and better!” Dodger barked again in joy.

Gabalin wore a pair of dark beige cargo shorts, and no shoes, never any shoes. He had on an open buttoned down white shirt, with green stripes going horizontal across the back and down the sleeves, and a pair of old grey gloves. Most important of all was the old pair of goggles covering his eyes, and made it possible to be around Dodger’s sand storm. They were called Go-Goggles, and had belonged to his grandfather many years ago. His hair, on the other hand, was a mess from being blown around.

“Gabalin, Dodger, that was pathetic,” said a sassy know-it-all voice from behind him. Gabalin and Dodger turned to see a young girl a year older then he was, with long blonde hair and a similarly dark tan. She, like Gabalin, where the only two children in the village, and had grown up together, but had never really gotten along too well. Her name was Sky.



A few days prior, a man wandered into town. He claimed to be from very far away, and knew tons of information about the world, and about pokemon. Gabalin and Sky, who also owned a pokemon, went to meet him and ask him a few things. No one in the village knew much about pokemon, besides the names and such, so it was a once in a life time opportunity for this old man to be wandering into their village with so much information. He said his name was Willow, and that he was a pokeslinger.

The man was old, about forty or so, with deep lines on his face and hands. He wore a long weathered coat and a cowboy’s hat, covering his graying black hair. His boots looked as old as he was. Around his neck was a deep red bandana. He looked every bit like an old cowboy.

“What’s that?” asked Gabalin. “Is it like a trainer?” One old man in the village, a man named Forest, had said he was a trainer years and years ago, before coming to the village. When ever Gabalin or Sky tried to ask him about the old days, he would become quite, or simply yell at the two kids to leave him alone.

“Well,” started Willow, “It’s like a trainer, but much much more.”

“How so?” asked Sky. She was clearly less interested in the conversation with the stranger then Gabalin, but since there really wasn’t anything to do in this village, she figured she’d hang around and listen to some stories.

“A trainer only battles with pokemon against other trainers. He travels around the world and battles, getting stronger and stronger. In time, a trainer has met all his goals and dreams, and then his life’s work becomes obsolete. A pokeslinger, on the other hand, trains his pokemon to protect the things that mean the most to him. He’s a guardian, not just a fighter, and only battles when he absolutely needs to.”

Gabalin’s eyes lit up at this. He was so enthralled by the stranger’s tales that Sky had to litteraly drag him away to go home for his supper. “I’ll come back tomorrow, Mister!”

“If I’m still here, I’ll continue my story,” replied the man.

Sky set off, dragging Gabalin by the arm. “That guy thinks he knows it all, I think he’s full of it,” she said.

“I think he’s cool. What do you think, Dodger?” Dodger, who was following behind, buzzing as he hopped though the air, barked a few times in agreement. Since Dodger’s wings weren’t large enough to fully support his weight while flying, he had to hop and then glide around. If a strong enough wind was in the area, he could glide much longer then usual. Today, however, there was very little wind. “I’m gonna become a pokeslinger. You’ll help me, right Dodger?”

Dodger barked again. They both loved the idea of being heroes, helping people and saving the day. “Yeah, right. Like there’s anything to save here anyway,” snapped back Sky. “The only way you’d ever save anyone is if you left the village.”

“Maybe I will! Maybe old man Willow will take us with him, right Dodger?!”

Before Dodger could answer, Sky spoke up, “Drop it Gabalin! You’re not going anywhere; no one in this village is, so just stop!” She turned to the younger boy, with what looked like tears in her eyes, then turned back around and went into her hut.

“Forget her, Dodger. Come on, let’s get home.”



Well, there you have it. If no one replies to this, or if I get a lot of negative reviews, I'll just end it right here, but if anyone likes it, please let me know and I'll continue on. (Also, the sex and violence don't come along till a little later, but yes they are in here)

 

[Alastor DMc]

This chapter is meant to be vauge, as far as the description of what a pokeslinger is. Later chapters will give a more detailed explanation, but for now I'm purposely leaving it vauge. This is also where the mature content is going to come into play.


Chapter 2



Gabalin returned home to a kettle pot cooking on the open pit outside his house. He could smell the mixture of meats and tamato berries, along with a few dried herbs his mother kept in the house. “This smells fantastic, right Dodger?”

Dodger barked in agreement and the two walked into their tiny hut. “Momma, guess what?” he asked, sitting down on one of the wooden chairs, and looking up at his mother. Dodger sat idly at his feet, buzzing his wings every now and then.

“What’s that, dear?” she asked. She, like all mothers, loved her son. He was all she had left, now that her husband, the man she’d loved more then anything in the world, was gone. He’d died a few months into her pregnancy. The Sand Tornado swallowed him up, tossed him about, and threw him into the air. He’d been stuck in the storm, and no one was able to go out and save him, and died of dehydration under the boiling hot sun. She was heart-broken, and then a few months later, Gabalin was born.

“There’s this old man in town, he’s staying at the inn, and he’s a pokeslinger!” his face was so bright and full of joy and wonder, much like the first time he’d met Dodger. His mother’s face, on the other hand, was not.

“Gabalin, I don’t want you going near that man, do you understand?” She had a very strick, upset face on, which was something Gabalin rarely saw. It scared him a bit, but he went on.

“Why not Momma? Me and Dodger want to be pokeslingers, just like him!”

“No!” she yelled. She turned away, so that he couldn’t see the tears forming in her eyes. That was one thing she never allowed Gabalin to see, her crying. “No, Gabalin, you can not go near him again. That’s the final word.”

Gabalin’s face fell inwards, and his once bright, innocent smile was now a deep upset frown. He said nothing, just pushed himself away from the table, and walked quietly into his room. “I’m gonna go to sleep, Mother.” This was the first time he called her by this, and not Momma. He would never call her Momma again.



That night, after his mother had gone to bed, along with most of the town, and the blazing sun had set, Gabalin and Dodger crawled out from his window. The window itself was just a hole in the mud walls of the hut, with no covering, so climbing out wasn’t exactly difficult. He landed on the sandy dirt outside, and Dodger hopped down next to him. “The hell does she know? Come on Dodger, we’re gonna go see Old Man Willow ourselves.”

The two walked quietly past his mother’s window, and once they were far enough away, picked up the pace just a bit. The distance from the inn to his house wasn’t far. Nothing in town was far, since the town itself was so small. There was the court and jail house and across the street were the market, the saloon and the inn. Next to that were the mayor and the sheriff’s house (which was convenient since they were the same person) and after that started the village. There was old man Forrest’s house, which was one of the biggest in town, next to the sheriff’s. Sky and her father’s hut came next, which was similar to Gabalin’s, except it had a larger door. Next to him were a few of the older people, older in the fact that they weren’t kids anymore. He and Sky were the only two children in town; even they were fourteen and fifteen respectively. Then there was the small ranch, which was fairly new to the town, and expected to pick up the economy, and maybe turn this quite village into a bustling town. The ranch’s owner, a man named Flint, owned a few Tauros, some Miltank and a heard of Ponyta and Rapidash.

Gabalin and Dodger got to the front of the inn and quietly entered the building. It had a swinging door, like you’d find on the saloon, and it creaked a bit when Gabalin entered the place. It had a tiny reception room, which was fine considering it was so rare that they had guests in the first place. As a result of the time, and the fact that no one but the Pokeslinger was here, there was no one waiting to great Gabalin and Dodger.

They made there way up the stair case to the second floor, which overlooked the reception room, and knocked quietly on the door to Room 1. “Mr. Old-Man Willow? It’s me, Gabalin, and Dodger’s with me too. Are you awake sir?” he said this at a whisper, so he wouldn’t wake anyone up, even though there was no one to wake up.

There was no response, so Gabalin turned to leave. “Alright, let’s come back in the morning, Dodger.” Dodger barked in agreement, rather loudly, and Gabalin jumped a bit from the sudden volume increase. “Shhh… we’ve gotta be quiet!” He said this, not realizing he himself was now being loud.

“Can I help you boys?” The door to Room 1 was now open and the Pokeslinger was standing in the doorway, fully dressed, staring down at them.

Gabalin was slightly scared, but turned around and looked up at the man. “I’m sorry, Mr. Old-Man, we just wanted to tell you that Dodger and I have decided to become pokeslinger’s like you!” Half way through his explanation, his look of fear turned back to excitement and joy.

The Pokeslinger looked down at him with no expression on his face. They stared at each other for what felt like the longest seconds of Gabalin’s life, until a slight smile started to form on the old man’s face. “A pokeslinger, ey? It’s not an easy life, boy, are you sure?”

Gabalin’s eyes lit up now, twice as much as they’d already been, “Yeah! It’s what we’ve always wanted to do! To be heroes and save lives!”

“That’s not all there is to being a pokeslinger, boy. It’s hard work, lonely nights, and you’ll have to give up a lot of what you have now.”

“That’s not a problem,” he said. His face now lowered, and the joy lessened considerably, “No one cares about me here anyway…”

The man stared down at the young boy, and his pokemon, which buzzed next to him. “If you want me to teach you, then come inside. I’ll tell you the story of my first day as a Slinger, and you decide if it’s the life for you.”

Gabalin’s face jumped up once again, and he and his vibrava walked into the old man’s room, sitting cross-legged on the floor, and gazed up at him. He came over, closing the door behind him, and sat on the edge of the bed. He took out a cigarette, something Gabalin had seen some of the older guys smoking but never tried himself, and lit it up. “Do you smoke?” asked the old man.

Gabalin thought for a second, and then asked, “Do all pokeslinger’s smoke?”

The old man replied, “Only the best.”

“Then yeah, I smoke.” Willow took out another piece of white rolling paper, sprinkled some tobacco into it, lit it up and gave it to Gabalin. He inhaled the smoke, and coughed a bit, then took it out of his mouth. His eyes were watering, and his head was spinning, but he kind of liked it.

“Get comfortable kid, we’ve got a long story ahead of us.”



Willow was barely eight years old when he got his first pokemon. It was a small, mammal like pokemon that resembled an echidna. It had a blue upper body and a tan under belly, with thin tightly closed eyes. “Willow, this will be your partner. It’s a cyndaquil.” The man who handed Willow the small pokemon was his teacher, a man named Evan. Evan was a large, powerfully built man, and a no-nonsense kind of guy. He expected nothing but perfection from his students, and Willow was no exception. “You must form a bond with Cyndaquil, for when the time comes, it will be he who safeguards your life.”

“I understand and will do my best,” replied Willow. It was a speech that had gone on for years. The master would give a pokemon to his student, and the student would accept him. The acceptance speech was the same every time. Willow had seen his older brother go through the same thing a few years before, and knew what was coming next.

“Now, Willow, name your cyndaquil,” said Evan.

“I will name him, Typhlo,” answered Willow. The other students, there were three others, were also given pokemon, and given the same speech, with their names replacing Willow’s and Typhlo’s.

After everyone was given their pokemon, Evan said, “You are now apprentices to a Pokeslinger. Tomorrow morning, as soon as the sun rises, your lessons will begin.”



Lessons were hard. Willow often went home bleeding or bruised, but usually both. He had a hard time controlling Typhlo, who had a hard time controlling its flames. Training included everything from basic education, math, science, history and writing, as well as manners and edict. Being a pokeslinger wasn’t just a job, it was a lifestyle. You became a representative of the nation, and were called upon in dangerous times, to defend your home, your friends and your family. You could be hired by others, to defend or save. You were a mercenary, but much more. You were a knight, but much more. You were a Pokeslinger.

Years went by, and Willow was now fifteen years old. Typhlo had evolved twice, after days and days of training, and was now in his final evolutionary stage of typhlosion. He stood almost six feet tall, and had a mane of bright flames, which gained heat depending on the level of anger Typhlo had. They’d come along way, in what felt like a short time, and he was ready to graduate.

“So, you feel it’s time then?” asked Evan.

“I know it’s time. Typhlo and I are ready to take the graduation challenge.”

“At sun-up tomorrow, you’ll be tested. Get a good night’s sleep, and don’t eat breakfast, you’ll probably throw up if you do.” Willow was ready for this, and he and Typhlo turned around and walked off. The next day, at sunrise, he began the challenge to become a full pokeslinger. By high noon, he had passed. He was the youngest of his class to take the test, and the youngest to pass. He would have been the youngest in the history of their country, but his brother owned that right. His brother, who was now gone. He’d been asked to take a mission one day and never returned home. Some said he died in a battle, but Willow knew his brother too well to believe that. He assumed he’d found a nice place. A place with no war, no violence, and no chaos, and stayed there.



Willow’s first mission was to a small town on the outskirts of the country called Rosecove. He and Typhlo were accompanied by a senior slinger by the name of Brask. Willow had never met Brask, even though they lived in the same village, but wanted to show the senior officer just how good he was.

“Now, Willow, you understand the details of the mission?” asked the man.

Willow had read it over the night before. A group of bandits had settled in the town, and it was their job to get rid of them all, freeing the town. “Yeah, I understand it all. Defend the city, save the people, standard stuff.”

Brask hit Willow hard across the face, which took him by surprise. “Be more serious, Willow. This is your first mission, and with an attitude like that, it’ll be your last.”

Tears were welling up in Willow’s eyes. He wanted to come off as brave, but ended up coming off as cocky, and already the other man didn’t like him for it. “I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

They traveled to town in a rickety cart, being pulled by two Tauros. They were disguised as simple merchants, looking to sell their goods. The bandits saw this and came running. “When I give you the signal, we attack.”

Willow nodded that he understood and got ready. “What have you got in the cart, gentlemen?” asked one of the bandits. He held a long curved sword in his hand, as did the other four that were with them. Each had a small ferret like pokemon with them. It was all black, and stood on its legs. They all had a single long pink ear, and big sharp white claws. Willow knew them to be sneasel.

“Just some beer and meat. We’re selling at the mart in town,” explained Brask.

“Oh, there’s no need to go all the way in there. We’ll take it for you,” snickered on of the bandits. He pulled Brask off the cart, as another one came around to pull down Willow. The other three bandits went around the back of the cart and pulled the sheet off, to see what they’d come across. When Typhlo jumped out at them, they were caught off guard.

“Typhlo, Flamethrower, now!” Willow demanded. Typhlo let loose a stream of flames from his mouth, which burned the sneasel and the bandits where they stood. The sneasle passed out, but the bandits remained standing. The one holding Willow was rearing up to strike the boy with his sword, but Willow’s years of harsh training paid off. He swiftly hit the man in the gut with his elbow, and then flipped him over backwards, causing him to drop his sword to the ground, which Willow scooped up.

“Finish them off, Willow, no one can leave here alive!” demanded Brask, who had already disarmed his holder. Willow had never actually done this before. The practice simulations at school were not the real thing, and yet now it was game time. Willow held the sword in his hand, looked down on his enemy, and drove it through the man’s spine, issuing a spray of blood, which splattered in his eyes. He opened them again, whipping the bandit’s red blood from his face, and flicked it down to the ground. He then fell to his knees, next to the now dead man, and vomited.

 

[Overwhelming_Latias]

After reading and re-reading these two chapters, I have to say I'm impressed. This is an original fic with plenty of potential. Good job!

Now for the review...

Good Points
-As above, it's original. I like the idea of the Pokeslinger. It seems like a noble profession, yet there seems to be something ominous surrounding the role (Gabalin's mother not wanting him to see Willow for example)
-A whirling narrative that engrosses the reader, keeping them interested throughout the chapter. Good work.
-Description is great too. From the Pokemon to the characters, it's all there and in abundance.
-Generally good punctuation and grammar.

Bad Points
-Pokemon names are 'proper nouns', and as such deserve capital letters. You've omitted these from names such as Typholosion, Sneasel and Trapinch. This also applies to the word 'Pokemon' itself (and perhaps Pokeslinger?) Don't forget those capitals.
-A few spelling mistakes also. The most obvious was 'scarred', which I assume was supposed to be 'scared'.

Again, an excellent fic, I await the next chapter... keep it up!

 

[Alastor DMc]

After reading and re-reading these two chapters, I have to say I'm impressed. This is an original fic with plenty of potential. Good job!

Now for the review...

Good Points
-As above, it's original. I like the idea of the Pokeslinger. It seems like a noble profession, yet there seems to be something ominous surrounding the role (Gabalin's mother not wanting him to see Willow for example)
-A whirling narrative that engrosses the reader, keeping them interested throughout the chapter. Good work.
-Description is great too. From the Pokemon to the characters, it's all there and in abundance.
-Generally good punctuation and grammar.

Bad Points
-Pokemon names are 'proper nouns', and as such deserve capital letters. You've omitted these from names such as Typholosion, Sneasel and Trapinch. This also applies to the word 'Pokemon' itself (and perhaps Pokeslinger?) Don't forget those capitals.
-A few spelling mistakes also. The most obvious was 'scarred', which I assume was supposed to be 'scared'.

Again, an excellent fic, I await the next chapter... keep it up!

Thanks for the comments. My word processer tends to auto correct words that aren't mis-spelled for some reason, such as changing scared to scarred, or threw to through. As for your first comment, a pokemon name is only a 'proper noun' when it's that pokemon's actual name, not when it's refering to the species of pokemon. You don't capitalize dog and cat every time you write them, unless of course they happen to be the animal's proper name. In this case a cyndaquil and a dog are the same, where as if his actual name was Cyndaquil then I would have capitalized it, the same way I'd capitalize Rover.

 

[Alastor DMc]

This chapter inculdes a nude scene. Veiwer discretion is advised


Chapter 3



The rest of that day was a blur. His body moved, but he wasn’t the one in control. Men fell. Were they dead? He had no idea and he’d never find out. All he could remember was the blood, the blood and the screams. The screams never really leave you. You can wash away the blood, clean your face and hands, but the screams, they become a part of you. All he could remember was after it was all over, and the shakes still hadn’t left him, Brask turned with a grin on his face and offered him his first smoke. “Here, this will get rid of that.” He was right, the shaking stopped, and he relaxed once again.

The mission was a success. Brask and Willow returned to their home later that night, neither with anything more serious then a few scratches and scars, but they were alive. Willow didn’t eat for two days after that, which was alright since he didn’t have another mission for three days. That mission was easier. He’d learned to set his body to auto-pilot, somehow. It didn’t even feel like he was killing anymore, it felt like any other job. Using a sword, or a lance, or a dagger, or even firing a gun should they find one (Guns were rare in these days, most of the working guns belonged to wealthy kings or dukes) became as easy and normal as any other job. He’d have felt just as comfortable asking a customer if they’d like more bread and water at their table. This was the life of a pokeslinger. This was the life of Willow.



Gabalin and Dodger sat in awe at the telling of the story. Willow made it seem so real, as if they were actually there. In some ways, it felt as if Gabalin actually was there. He could hear the screams, see the blood, and even feel the adrenaline pumping through his body. He stood up, after a few minutes of silence, and looked Old-Man Willow right in the eyes. “I want to do that.”

Willow looked at the boy, who was only fourteen, and yet almost twice as old as he was when he’d began this life, and smiled a bit. “Are you sure boy? Are you sure you’ve got the stomach and the heart to do this line of work?”

“I’m sure. My whole life, I’ve been sitting here, ignorant to the whole world. I need to grow up, I need to change and become a man.” Gabalin took the cigarette, which had long since gone out, out of his mouth and rubbed it in the ashtray. “Take me with you, when you leave town.”

Willow would be lying if he said he was surprised by the request, yet it still came as a bit of a shock. The kid wasn’t messing around; he could tell that Gabalin wanted to become a pokeslinger, with or without Willow’s help. “I can’t take you with me, you’re not ready.”

Gabalin’s heart fell again. “But why? We’re already great, and with you teaching us, we’ll get even better!” Dodger barked at this. He wanted whatever Gabalin wanted, and at this moment it was to leave the sleepy little town and get out into the world.

“I’m leaving this town, to make my way to the next one tomorrow morning. Later today, I’ll show you your training schedule. On my way back, I’ll stop here and check on you. If you and your vibrava aren’t at least twice as strong as you are when I leave, then you’ll never become a pokeslinger,” explained the man.

“Later today? But… it’s already past sun-down?” Willow looked out the window of the room, which was blocked with a single sheet. Willow undid the sheet and let the beginning lights of morning creep into the room.

“Correction, son, it’s morning,” he said, looking out towards the sandy hills, and the river that ran through them.

“We gotta get home!” yelled Gabalin, scared of his mother waking up to find an empty bed this early in the morning. “Come on Dodger, let’s get going!”

The two ran for the door when Willow spoke again, “Meet there, down by the river in between the hills, at high noon today. You’ll be given your lessons then.”

“Okay, Old-Man! We’ll see you there!” he called, as he ran out of the inn and back outside into the tiny town that he called home.



On his way back, he thought of an idea. “If I stop by the river on the way home, and bring some water, then Mother will think we were just out doing chores.” Dodger barked in agreement, and the two set off towards the river.

They walked along the bank, listening to the quite babble of the flowing water. This oddity of nature, a flowing river of water in the middle of a desert was what gave the town the little life it had. People following the river, to travel through the desert, often stopped in town, and that was where they made the little money they did. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to find people in the river, swimming or drinking. This dawn, was no exception.

Up ahead, Gabalin heard someone splashing slightly in the water. He and Dodger quieted their walking, so that they were barely audible. Who ever it was was right around the bend, being concealed by the sand hill in front of them. Gabalin, being the curious child he was, wanted a better view of whom ever it was, and he quietly climbed up the hill. When he got to the top, he lay on this belly, and looked down to see a young woman, nude and bathing in the river.

He could only see her from behind. She had long, golden blonde hair, that went down to the small of her back, and just below that was her tight, round, beautifully toned gluts. He stared at her bottom, going up and down her silky smooth golden legs. She bent down, to wet her body, and with the sun starting to peak out from over the hills, it made her whole body seem to glisten.

Gabalin’s shorts seemed to begetting tighter, so he unbuckled the belt, and slipped them off. He continued to stare, as if he was unable to take his eyes off the girl. She turned slightly, but her face was still concealed, and Gabalin couldn’t quite maker her out. He did however manage to see her breasts. They weren’t large, but weren’t small either. They seemed perfect, and firm, the way a young girl’s breasts normally are, before gravity has had a chance to take hold of them. Her front-side was just as beautiful as her back-side, with a flat belly, and round, curvy hips.

Being lost in this, he didn’t notice that Dodger had gone closer, to see who was there. Dodger crept up, and was very close to the girl, when he barked at her, seeming to scare her a bit. “What? Dodger?” The girl turned quickly to see Gabalin staring down from the top of the hill. “Who’s there?!” she yelled, running out of the river to collect her clothes. Gabalin was caught off guard and slipped down the hill, landing with a splash in the water. He stood up quickly to see that the girl was none other then Sky, trying her best to cover up.

“How long have you been there, you pervert?!” she screamed, red in the face.

“I… I’m sorry,” he managed to get out; “I didn’t know it was you, Sky. I just wanted to see who was in the river.”

In slipping down the hill, he forgot that his shorts were left behind, and now he too stood facing her, with everything exposed. He didn’t notice until a light breeze swept by, chilling his now erect penis. Both Sky and Gabalin blushed at this, but neither made any effort to leave. They both stood there, staring at one another, unsure of what to do next. “I have to go…” he finally said. He turned around, to walk back to the hill when Sky grabbed his shoulder, and spun him around.

She kissed him full on the mouth. It was the first kiss either of them had ever experienced. She then took his hand and placed it on her right breast, where he kept it, unsure if he should squeeze, or rub, or what. After what felt like forever and not long enough at the same time, Sky pulled away and walked back to the opposite shore, quickly getting dressed. She then walked away, leaving Gabalin standing naked in the river, with only Dodger.

He pulled his shorts back on, and then walked home, unsure of what just happened. Unsure of whether or not any of that had really happened.



After a quick breakfast and nap, Gabalin and Dodger made their way back to the hills which the river ran through, to meet Willow. They got there a little early, to warm up a bit, expecting a vigorous training exercise. Both boy and pokemon stretched their arms and legs, and Dodger stretched his wings and tail as well. They did a few jumping jacks, and some push ups, then dunked their heads in the water to cool off.

“Slacking off already?” asked a voice from behind Gabalin. He and Dodger turned to see Willow standing behind them, his one hand on his belt, the other hanging low. “Get up, it’s time to begin.”

Gabalin stood up at attention, with Dodger standing at this side, also ridged. “Gabalin, this will be your partner. It’s a vibrava. You must form a bond with Vibrava, for when the time comes, it will be he who safeguards your life.”

“I understand and will do my best,” replied Gabalin
“Now, Willow, name your vibrava,” said Willow.

“I have named him Dodger,” answered Gabalin.

“You are now apprentices to a Pokeslinger. Today, your training will begin.”



The first questions Willow asked Gabalin was what attacks Dodger could use. Gabalin, having no knowledge of pokemon outside of the few bits and pieces his mother told him, didn’t know the names of any attacks, just what he’d always called them.

“Well, there’s the golden fire breath, the sand tornado, the hard bite and the fake Dodgers,” he said, looking up at his new master.

“Okay, if I’m not mistaken, those should be Dragon Breath, Sandstorm, Crunch and Double Team… that’s not bad, considering you have no knowledge of pokemon. However, it should be much better. Dodger hasn’t even reached his final form, and you two have been together for how long?”

“Ten years about, right Dodger?” Dodger barked in agreement.

Willow thought for a few minutes. Finally, he turned to them both and said, “Here is your training. I’m leaving tonight at sundown, when it’s coolest out and easiest to travel long distances. I will return in one month. Durring that time, Dodger, you must evolve into a flygon, and learn the attack Dragon Claw. Do you understand?”

Dodger barked that he understood. Willow then turned to Gabalin, “You boy, I am already quite impressed with, however you lack most elementary skills of a pokeslinger. First and foremost, you must learn to be much stealthier. Last night, when you came to my room, I could hear you from a mile away.” This made Gabalin remember the events of this morning, where he’d given up his hiding spot by accident, and Dodger had revealed they were there, hiding. But there was no reason to tell Willow about this… “Granted, I’ve been trained to listen for things like that, however you should be able to slip in and out unnoticed by anyone, including an old slinger like myself.

“Second, you’ll need to become faster and stronger. I’ve never seen you fight, but regardless you need to become at least three times stronger then you are now, do you understand?”

Gabalin stood for a moment, and then answered, “I understand. I can lift a full jug of water by myself now; you want me to be able to lift three? I can do my best.”

“Your best had better be good enough. Otherwise, you’ll need to do better then your best. Both of you begin your training now. We’ll meet here again in one month.”

Willow, Gabalin and Dodger nodded, and then turned to walk away. This was going to be a long month, and they had to make the most of it.

 

[Alastor DMc]

I know this is a bit of a bump, but I finally finished the 4th chapter. This takes place directly after the break in the first chapter, where Sky shows up behind him, incase it's a little hard to follow. The story, up until now, has taken place for the most part in all flashbacks, and is now in the present.


Chapter 4



It was now a week since Old-Man Willow left town. Gabalin had been working hard, lifting barrels of water over his head and back down. Up and down for hours on end, until his arms just couldn’t lift anymore. In the mornings, he’d help some of the locals with their farming, or running errands for his neighbors. Dodger was practicing on his own, using all the attacks and techniques that he’d taught himself over the years. Then they finally got together to see just how far they’d come along in a week.

Dodger was showing off his Dragon Breath and Sand Storm, when Sky interrupted. She was standing atop one of the sand dunes, looking down at the boys. “Gabalin, Dodger that was pathetic.”

It was the first time Gabalin had seen Sky since that morning in the river. His face became hot and red, as she looked down on him, and he lowered his face to the sand beneath his feet. “You’ll never be a Pokeslinger with moves like that.”

Now the heated red feeling, which was embarrassment, turned into anger, “Says you, Sky! We’re gonna be the best Pokeslingers ever, right Dodger!?” Dodger barked in agreement, and even he looked angry with the girl.

“I’ll show you how to really battle,” Sky said. She pulled out a small blue and white ball. Gabalin had seen it before, even knew what was inside. She tossed it into the air, and in a flash of light, a bird like pokemon appeared in the sky. It was about four feet tall, with six feet of wing span. Its wings and its entire body were covered in a silver metal with a red metal covering the lower “feathers” of the wings. “Skarmory, Fury Attack, now!” she demanded.

Skarmory swooped down fast, and began to rapidly jab it’s beak at Dodger, who wasn’t able to avoid two of the five stabs. “Hey! That’s not fair, Sky! We weren’t ready!” cried Gabalin.

“You won’t have a warning in a real battle, Gabalin! This is serious business you’re getting yourself into; you better start taking it seriously! Skarmory, use Steel Wing now!” Skarmory’s body flashed silver, and its wings which were once a redish color were now pure silver. It swept in again, and collided with Dodger, sending the dragon fly pokemon flying backwards, and knocking him unconscious.

Gabalin looked at his friend, lying in the sand, not moving, and a wave of fury swept through the boy. “Sky! How could you!?” He ran at the girl, moving on pure adrenaline, and went to slap her in the face. She backed away, avoiding the slap, and instead kicked him hard in the stomach.

“You just got beat up by a girl, Gabalin. Practice harder.” She held out the blue and white pokeball again, calling her Skarmory back inside, and then walked away.

Gabalin crawled over to his fainted vibrava and held him close, as he started to cry. This was going to be a lot harder then he originally thought, and he wasn’t sure if he was truly up to it.



The next day, Gabalin and Dodger trained together, rather then separate. They attacked some of the cactus and brush in the area, pretending they were attacking pokemon. Gabalin could hit accurately with his Dragon Breath, getting about the middle region of the cacti every time, and his Crunch attack could cut the brush clean in half. After that, Dodger would whip up a Sand Storm, and follow up with Double Team, effectively hiding himself in the storm. It was then Gabalin’s job to pick out the real Dodger. They’d tried ten times so far, and Gablin had only gotten it right twice. He kept looking for something, some way that he could tell when a Double Team was an illusion and when the real Dodger was there, but he had yet to see anything. He tried tossing sand around him in a circle, and when the sand went through the pokemon, he knew it wasn’t real. However, with the Sand Storm brewing, there was sand everywhere.

Finally, after the twentieth time, and only getting it right now three times, he started to notice something. It was very quick, but every single time, one of the Dodgers would move a fraction of a second faster then the rest, which meant that one had to be the real Dodger. He leapt at the real Dodger, and was right. On the Twenty-first time, he was right again.

After the sun had set, and they could no longer see, Gabalin and Dodger made for home. “That was a good day of practice, Dodger, but we need to practice against a real opponent.” Dodger barked in agreement. Gabalin tried to think of who they could ask. He really didn’t want to see Sky for a while, not after yesterday’s beating, so there was only one other option. Old Man Forrest. He doubted highly that the old man would help him train, but he had to ask none-the-less.



“But please, Mr. Forrest. We need you to help make us stronger; you’re the only one who can!” He was right; the old man wanted nothing to do with him, but he couldn’t let that stop him.

“I told you once, kid, I don’t battle pokemon anymore. I’m retired. You want me to help make you stronger, go chop wood for me!” and with that he slammed the door in Gabalin’s face. Within half an hour, a pile of freshly chopped wood was on the porch, and Gabalin knocked again.

“What do you want now?” asked the old man.

“We chopped the wood, now will you train us?” he asked, looking up through his Go-Goggles with a bright smile on his face.

“Humph, that’s not something to be bragging about. When I was your age, I could chop a pile twice as high in half the time.”

“Okay, you got it!” he said, and then Gabalin and Dodger hopped off the porch and made for the wood again, this time working harder and faster then before.

Old Man Forest watched this in silent amusement for a while. He wasn’t sure what the kid was trying to prove, but he had to admit that he had tenacity and energy. He also noticed Gabalin’s arms chest and legs. They seemed to have doubled in size in only a week and a half. “Boy, maybe I do have a bit of time to train you and your vibrava there.”

Gabalin dropped the axe in his hand and turned towards the old man. “Really! You’ll train us!”

“Well… you’ve cut enough wood so that I won’t have to worry about it for at least a month… I suppose you’ve freed up a little time for me.”

“Okay, great! What do we do first?!” he was jumping up and down now, excited and ready to do what ever the old man told them to. Forrest threw Gabalin and Dodger two pots of water.

“Go to the well and fill them up. Bring it back here. You have ten minutes.”

“But… the well is at least fifteen minutes from here, how can we-”

“Time’s wasting boy! Get moving, now! You fail this exercise, and I’m not training you anymore!”

Gabalin and Dodger turned around and ran full speed for the well. As they ran off, Forrest looked at the two boys and wondered. He had a feeling that Pokeslinger had something to do with this… and if that was the case, then there was clearly no stopping the boy and his pet. It might be fun to train a student again; it had been years since he’d taken on a pupil after all.



Nine minutes and thirty seven seconds later, Gabalin and Dodger were back with two full pots of water. Each pot was at least three feet tall, capable of holding at least twenty gallons of water each, and yet they’d managed to carry it all the way here. The pots weren’t light weight either. “We’re back!” gasped Gabalin, trying to take in as much air as he could. “Did we make it in time?”

Spencer looked down at the two, gasping for breath and dripping in sweat. “Barely. Drink from the pots, both of you, before you pass out.” The two dunked their heads in the pots and drained about a gallon each. Then they looked up and waited for their next assignments.

“I want you both to get me four spicy berries and one bitter, then go to the market and get me a pound of pork. You have twenty minutes, go!” yelled Forrest to the boys.

Gabalin and Dodger didn’t waste any time, they just took off running. They picked the five berries easily, from the local plants, but when they got to the market they ran into trouble. “Dodger… do you have any money on you?” Dodger looked at Gabalin, wondering if the boy was joking. “Shoot… me either. How are we going to get the pork?”

He thought for a moment, and then decided it was the only way. He snuck along the wall of the mart, making sure not to make a noise. He made his way inside the tiny market, and crawled on his belly to the butcher. He then nabbed a chunk of pork, and quickly scurried out of the market, making sure no one saw him. “Come on, let’s go!”

The two then ran back to Forrest’s house, and knocked on the door. “We’re finished!” Only eighteen minutes had gone by.

“Excellent, throw them all in the pot, it’s boiling on the fire,” said the old man, as he sat in his chair. Gabalin did this, and then he and Dodger turned for their next assignment.

“That’ll be all for today boys. Thanks for helping me make my stew,” he chuckled. Gabalin looked down at Dodger, and they both felt like jerks. They’d been set up by Forrest to do his chores and what had they gotten for it? Nothing but tired feet and a guilty conscience from stealing the pork, that’s what.

They both turned to leave when Forrest stopped them. “Here,” he said tossing them a few pieces of silver. “Go pay the butcher, and keep the rest. Come back here at sun-up and I’ll train you some more.”

Gabalin and Dodger both smiled, and then rushed from the house. They only got a little money from the change, but it was more then they’d had at the start of the day. After a quick bath in the river, and a little dinner that his mother had left on the barbeque fell right to sleep before the sun had had a chance to set. Tomorrow was when the real training began.

 

[Kiyohime]

You may not like hearing this, but you're a heartbeat away from outright plagarism.

Stephen King's Dark Tower series is one of the best books I've ever read, and I enjoy his work. It's very interesting seeing a Pokemon version of his epic tale, but you cannot steal his writing and modify it. Take the opening line. The original: "The man in black fled across the desert and the gunslinger followed." Similar....much too similar. Are you writing this story as you look at his books? The first one (The Gunslinger), to be more specific.

I STRONGLY recommend you change it, or at least announce in the first post that it is based on Stephen King's books, and not directly use so many of his original writing. Plagarism is such a serious crime, as trivial as it may sound, and I certainly don't want to see something as interesting as your spinoff on Stephen King's story be an outright plagarism of his work. If you have skill of your own, rely on your own stprytelling abilities, not his.

Best of luck.

 

[Alastor DMc]

You may not like hearing this, but you're a heartbeat away from outright plagarism.

Stephen King's Dark Tower series is one of the best books I've ever read, and I enjoy his work. It's very interesting seeing a Pokemon version of his epic tale, but you cannot steal his writing and modify it. Take the opening line. The original: "The man in black fled across the desert and the gunslinger followed." Similar....much too similar. Are you writing this story as you look at his books? The first one (The Gunslinger), to be more specific.

I STRONGLY recommend you change it, or at least announce in the first post that it is based on Stephen King's books, and not directly use so many of his original writing. Plagarism is such a serious crime, as trivial as it may sound, and I certainly don't want to see something as interesting as your spinoff on Stephen King's story be an outright plagarism of his work. If you have skill of your own, rely on your own stprytelling abilities, not his.

Best of luck.

The true deffinition of Plagarism is a direct copying of a person's work, claiming it as your own. I know this because every college class I've ever taken, and I've taken quite a few, starts the semmester off defining this. Now, I will admit right here and now that this is inspired, at least at first, by The Dark Tower, however it is not plagarized, it's more of a nod to the series.

If this offends any of you somehow, I can't see how it would, then you don't have to read the rest, but bear in mind that this is not "plagarized" just "inspired by"

 

[Kiyohime]

Ah, it doesn't offend me, but warning alarms went off in my head when I began reading the first chapter, since the words were much too similar. I know the definition of plagarism, so no need to tell me. Still, it could be labeled as a mild form of plagarism for some people; me, not so much plagarism in this scene since it IS Pokemon-- a Pokemonified Gunslinger.

Though, you've been pleasant to me, and if it's a nod to the series, that's all right with me, personally. I'll keep following this since I'm interesed to see how you'll make it all tie in to Pokemon, since it's such an epic series (SEVEN books for chrissake, and none of them are short XD)

 

[Alastor DMc]

Well, I hate to dissapoint, but I probably won't be tying it into the rest of the Dark Tower series. I just used the Gunslinger as inspiration for the first few chapters, and for the profession of a "pokeslinger." We won't be seeing anyone traveling around the world, along the path of the beam, or being chased by baby spiders or Doctor Doom wolves, I can assure you of that.