Author's note: due to my commitment to Eskimo Jolteon, this fic will at
most be erratically continued, when and as I feel like it. So there.
Wobble. Eskimo Jolteon gets top priority over this, so don't beg me to
continue if you find it good. If you don't like it, at least tell me why u
don't like it. All flames/complaints that I don't have enough description
are welcome.
Disclaimer: I don't own pokemon, Nintendo does. So there.
The Dark Side
Chapter 0: Prologue
One thousand years ago
The candles flickered on the musty stone walls of the chamber far below the surface of the earth. The place was empty, except for a few tomes littering the area and the altar in the middle of the chamber.
Very slowly, a huge stone door on one side of the room creaked open to reveal a black-clad hooded figure, which stepped into the room. The room was always kept in this state, as for some reason best left unknown, the Dark Masters which the Figure served demanded that appearances be kept up. It was not good to defy them. A few days ago, one of the sect had questioned their orders, and had been consumed in a lightless fire. The figure shuddered at the memory and moved into the center of the room.
The figure paused for a moment to check the length of a burning candle. Yes, the hour was almost upon him. He had to hurry, the ritual had to be done. Hesitantly, he stepped towards the altar. Every single action, every gesture, every single word had to be spoken at the correct time, or the ritual would be futile.
The figure rose its arms. Here was the final chance to back out of this. But still, he pressed on and shouted,
"Forces of Darkness in this twilight hour, hear my cry and grant me power!"
Deep Purple lightning crackled in the air for a while, and exploded a flash of purple, throwing the figure against the wall like a rag doll hurled by a child. The air crackled with energy for a while, and all was still, just as it had been before.
The figure picked himself up with much difficulty, although the pain that should have accompanied such injuries was nonexistent, and he felt powerful. Smiling, the figure tottered out of the room. The ritual had worked, the Dark Masters had granted him power. Now he would show the Dark Masters that they had chosen the right person to do their work.
Strangely, the hooded figure felt strange, somehow different, and it was not the power. He shrugged, and continued. His body would need time to adjust to the newfound power. Although he knew that the Dark Masters would demand a heavy price for granting him these powers, little did he think that he had been struck with a curse, a curse so severe that it would run through blood and plague humanity for generations to come...
The first Were-Umbreon.
There! Review please! As I said, this fic will only be updated as and when I like it, so if u like it, please don't keep on banging for me to continue. All flames/complaints are welcome.
Disclaimer: I don't own pokemon, Nintendo does. So there.
The Dark Side
Chapter 0: Prologue
One thousand years ago
The candles flickered on the musty stone walls of the chamber far below the surface of the earth. The place was empty, except for a few tomes littering the area and the altar in the middle of the chamber.
Very slowly, a huge stone door on one side of the room creaked open to reveal a black-clad hooded figure, which stepped into the room. The room was always kept in this state, as for some reason best left unknown, the Dark Masters which the Figure served demanded that appearances be kept up. It was not good to defy them. A few days ago, one of the sect had questioned their orders, and had been consumed in a lightless fire. The figure shuddered at the memory and moved into the center of the room.
The figure paused for a moment to check the length of a burning candle. Yes, the hour was almost upon him. He had to hurry, the ritual had to be done. Hesitantly, he stepped towards the altar. Every single action, every gesture, every single word had to be spoken at the correct time, or the ritual would be futile.
The figure rose its arms. Here was the final chance to back out of this. But still, he pressed on and shouted,
"Forces of Darkness in this twilight hour, hear my cry and grant me power!"
Deep Purple lightning crackled in the air for a while, and exploded a flash of purple, throwing the figure against the wall like a rag doll hurled by a child. The air crackled with energy for a while, and all was still, just as it had been before.
The figure picked himself up with much difficulty, although the pain that should have accompanied such injuries was nonexistent, and he felt powerful. Smiling, the figure tottered out of the room. The ritual had worked, the Dark Masters had granted him power. Now he would show the Dark Masters that they had chosen the right person to do their work.
Strangely, the hooded figure felt strange, somehow different, and it was not the power. He shrugged, and continued. His body would need time to adjust to the newfound power. Although he knew that the Dark Masters would demand a heavy price for granting him these powers, little did he think that he had been struck with a curse, a curse so severe that it would run through blood and plague humanity for generations to come...
The first Were-Umbreon.
There! Review please! As I said, this fic will only be updated as and when I like it, so if u like it, please don't keep on banging for me to continue. All flames/complaints are welcome.
