The Lonely Quest
By Adam Sager
A lone figure entered the small, crowded, and smoky tavern. The figure was draped in a large black cloak. It served nicely to protect him from the elements and also to obscure his features. Only a faint glow could be seen emanating from the opening in the front of the hood. He silently made his way to the bar, and sat on one of the bar stools. He spoke a few words to the meowth morph bartender. The commotion was quite loud from all of the conversing going on around the bar though he didn't raise his voice. Instead he dropped some credits on the counter. He made his way to the room he had just rented. Once there he pulled back his hood, revealing his smooth equine features and his long fiery mane. "Ah, solitude", he thought to himself "I wouldn't have it any other way." His name was Flameaton, a quite extraordinary rapidash morph. He was quite tall and muscular. He sighed to himself and sat on the corner of the bed. He was a traveler, a nomad. Constantly moving from place to place, and never laying down roots or friendships. If anything he shunned them. He knew he could do perfectly fine on his own, or had fooled himself into thinking so. Tears began to fill his big equine eyes as he thought about all of the painful experiments conducted on him at the lab by Giovanni Ó. He shuddered to think of where he would be now if it wasn't for that odd blue haired fellow, oh what was his name, James Ó. Ever since his escape he had been nomadic, wander here and there looking for a part of him that was missing in his life. The tears dripped onto his cloak leaving small patched of moisture behind. Wiping his eyes with a hoof/hand he contemplated where to go next. He took out his tattered map and looked at it. The next town was less than a day's journey from here. He looked at his map again, but not making much sense of it he tossed it aside. He decided to look at the map again tomorrow. Perhaps he was more tired than he originally thought. With this in mind he continued to get ready for bed until he collapsed onto the bed and fell into a dreamless sleep. That is accept for the vision. It was the same vision that had plagued him for as long as he could remember. It was the driving force behind his expedition, his quest. In the vision it was always the same setting, A grassy field of flowers. He would see her a fine specimen of a rapidash morph. Her long and fiery mane and tail streaming behind her. He would always awaken in a cold sweat and then fall back into a dreamless sleep.
The morning sun shone brightly through the windows of his room, arousing him from his sleep. He yawned and got ready for the day, donning his large black cloak, and gathering his belongings. He went downstairs where he was assailed be the familiar odor of smoke and the clamor of voices all talking at once. He made his way silently over to the meowth bartender once again and thanked him. He made his way outside where he was forced to shade his eyed from the brilliant rays of sunlight shining upon him. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, it no longer became necessary to continue shading them. He saw that activity in the town was in full swing. He could hear the murmuring of merchants and the conversing of townspeople, all of which were trivial to him. He needed nothing from them so he paid them no heed. He quickly checked his supplies. He had plenty of food to last him until he reached the next town. He checked his map once more and headed toward the expanse of forest that spread in front of him. He fingered his dagger just in case he would need to use it for defense. It would not be the first time he would have to defend himself from attack. The wild Pokemon scattered upon his approach, not that it really mattered. As he walked he became aware of an odd noise, a high-pitched whining. Out of curiosity he went to investigate. He followed the noise to it's origin. The soft green grass was a welcome change from the hard asphalt and concrete walkways. What he discovered made his blood boil. He came upon a crude human trap. It brought to the surface of his mind just why he hated humans so much. Caught in this particular trap was a poor defenseless Pokemon, a charmander he believed. The gruesome contraption was similar to an old fashioned bear trap. The teeth of the trap were already firmly embedded in the fiery lizard's leg flesh. He could not let the poor creature suffer any longer. He then set out to find a way to free it. His first task was to calm the injured Pokemon down. This was achieved by talking soothingly to it. Once the helpless reptile had settled down slightly, he bent over and tried to pry the teeth of the trap apart. It took a lot of effort, but he finally the trap surrendered it's helpless victim. Flameaton saw that the Little Pokemon was nearly motionless. Upon further inspection though he realized that the little fire lizard had fainted from exhaustion or pain. The wound itself looked quite nasty but was only a flesh wound. He took some healing herbs from his cloak and applied them to the wound. He then bandaged the wound with some cloth he carried with him. Deciding that the poor little guy was too vulnerable to the less savory creatures in the woods, He carried the cute little fire starter with him. As for that damnable trap, he destroyed it to the best of his abilities to insure that other organisms wouldn't share the same fate as the cute red lizard. The healing herbs also acted as a sedative to calm the fiery red fire thrower during the duration of the journey. He made his way back to the main road and continued towards the next town. It had gotten slightly cooler as they approached the town so he gently wrapped the shivering red pokemon in the folds of his cloak to keep it warm. It was only slightly past midday, so he headed straight to the tavern to reserve a room. Once there he paid the bartender and retired to his room. He noticed that the fire lizard's wound bandage needed changing, so he quickly and gently did that. The wound had healed nicely, but it would be several days before the wound would fully heal. "Oh well" he sighed to himself "I couldn't leave the poor creature for dead." After changing the bandage, he realized he needed more bandages and healing herbs. Flameaton did not want to take the chance of the little guy waking up unattended, so he rigged up a basket type contraption to take his little injured companion with him. He exited the tavern and browsed the many shops, that lined both sides of the road. He found the supplies he needed and dropped some credits for the delibird morph merchant. He paid the other merchants no heed. He already had the supplies he had come for. That was until he spotted something out of the corner of his eye (a difficult task while wearing a hood). He stopped and turned his head slightly for a better look. To his amazement it was another rapidash morph. She was selling a little bit of everything. She had tools, bandages, herbs, and weapons. Upon seeing her, his mind flashed back to the visions. He decided to at least say something to her. He spoke a greeting to her in his (or should I say their) native tongue. This startled her to no end, since his features were obscured by his cloak. That is of course except for the faint glow his mane produced. She immediately asked him to remove his hood (in their native tongue). He obliged her, and she was instantly smitten by his good looks. After a brief introduction and a summary of the events that led him here, They agreed to meet somewhere over dinner. Later that night over dinner, she mentioned that she was studying over at Seaview University. The shop was just a side job. He listened with great interest to her life story. She was deeply moved by his kindness toward the injured charmander. They agreed to become friends and to keep it that way until they got to know each other better. By the time Flameaton had returned to his room in the tavern, he had a new sensation. He finally felt complete. He found what he had been lacking all of this time. A friend.
TBC
This story is dedicated jani_eevee. Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed your pic. Thanks again.
ã Kat http://www.angelfire.com/or2/kataryna/index2.html Based on the story "Pookamon" by Kat
By Adam Sager
A lone figure entered the small, crowded, and smoky tavern. The figure was draped in a large black cloak. It served nicely to protect him from the elements and also to obscure his features. Only a faint glow could be seen emanating from the opening in the front of the hood. He silently made his way to the bar, and sat on one of the bar stools. He spoke a few words to the meowth morph bartender. The commotion was quite loud from all of the conversing going on around the bar though he didn't raise his voice. Instead he dropped some credits on the counter. He made his way to the room he had just rented. Once there he pulled back his hood, revealing his smooth equine features and his long fiery mane. "Ah, solitude", he thought to himself "I wouldn't have it any other way." His name was Flameaton, a quite extraordinary rapidash morph. He was quite tall and muscular. He sighed to himself and sat on the corner of the bed. He was a traveler, a nomad. Constantly moving from place to place, and never laying down roots or friendships. If anything he shunned them. He knew he could do perfectly fine on his own, or had fooled himself into thinking so. Tears began to fill his big equine eyes as he thought about all of the painful experiments conducted on him at the lab by Giovanni Ó. He shuddered to think of where he would be now if it wasn't for that odd blue haired fellow, oh what was his name, James Ó. Ever since his escape he had been nomadic, wander here and there looking for a part of him that was missing in his life. The tears dripped onto his cloak leaving small patched of moisture behind. Wiping his eyes with a hoof/hand he contemplated where to go next. He took out his tattered map and looked at it. The next town was less than a day's journey from here. He looked at his map again, but not making much sense of it he tossed it aside. He decided to look at the map again tomorrow. Perhaps he was more tired than he originally thought. With this in mind he continued to get ready for bed until he collapsed onto the bed and fell into a dreamless sleep. That is accept for the vision. It was the same vision that had plagued him for as long as he could remember. It was the driving force behind his expedition, his quest. In the vision it was always the same setting, A grassy field of flowers. He would see her a fine specimen of a rapidash morph. Her long and fiery mane and tail streaming behind her. He would always awaken in a cold sweat and then fall back into a dreamless sleep.
The morning sun shone brightly through the windows of his room, arousing him from his sleep. He yawned and got ready for the day, donning his large black cloak, and gathering his belongings. He went downstairs where he was assailed be the familiar odor of smoke and the clamor of voices all talking at once. He made his way silently over to the meowth bartender once again and thanked him. He made his way outside where he was forced to shade his eyed from the brilliant rays of sunlight shining upon him. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, it no longer became necessary to continue shading them. He saw that activity in the town was in full swing. He could hear the murmuring of merchants and the conversing of townspeople, all of which were trivial to him. He needed nothing from them so he paid them no heed. He quickly checked his supplies. He had plenty of food to last him until he reached the next town. He checked his map once more and headed toward the expanse of forest that spread in front of him. He fingered his dagger just in case he would need to use it for defense. It would not be the first time he would have to defend himself from attack. The wild Pokemon scattered upon his approach, not that it really mattered. As he walked he became aware of an odd noise, a high-pitched whining. Out of curiosity he went to investigate. He followed the noise to it's origin. The soft green grass was a welcome change from the hard asphalt and concrete walkways. What he discovered made his blood boil. He came upon a crude human trap. It brought to the surface of his mind just why he hated humans so much. Caught in this particular trap was a poor defenseless Pokemon, a charmander he believed. The gruesome contraption was similar to an old fashioned bear trap. The teeth of the trap were already firmly embedded in the fiery lizard's leg flesh. He could not let the poor creature suffer any longer. He then set out to find a way to free it. His first task was to calm the injured Pokemon down. This was achieved by talking soothingly to it. Once the helpless reptile had settled down slightly, he bent over and tried to pry the teeth of the trap apart. It took a lot of effort, but he finally the trap surrendered it's helpless victim. Flameaton saw that the Little Pokemon was nearly motionless. Upon further inspection though he realized that the little fire lizard had fainted from exhaustion or pain. The wound itself looked quite nasty but was only a flesh wound. He took some healing herbs from his cloak and applied them to the wound. He then bandaged the wound with some cloth he carried with him. Deciding that the poor little guy was too vulnerable to the less savory creatures in the woods, He carried the cute little fire starter with him. As for that damnable trap, he destroyed it to the best of his abilities to insure that other organisms wouldn't share the same fate as the cute red lizard. The healing herbs also acted as a sedative to calm the fiery red fire thrower during the duration of the journey. He made his way back to the main road and continued towards the next town. It had gotten slightly cooler as they approached the town so he gently wrapped the shivering red pokemon in the folds of his cloak to keep it warm. It was only slightly past midday, so he headed straight to the tavern to reserve a room. Once there he paid the bartender and retired to his room. He noticed that the fire lizard's wound bandage needed changing, so he quickly and gently did that. The wound had healed nicely, but it would be several days before the wound would fully heal. "Oh well" he sighed to himself "I couldn't leave the poor creature for dead." After changing the bandage, he realized he needed more bandages and healing herbs. Flameaton did not want to take the chance of the little guy waking up unattended, so he rigged up a basket type contraption to take his little injured companion with him. He exited the tavern and browsed the many shops, that lined both sides of the road. He found the supplies he needed and dropped some credits for the delibird morph merchant. He paid the other merchants no heed. He already had the supplies he had come for. That was until he spotted something out of the corner of his eye (a difficult task while wearing a hood). He stopped and turned his head slightly for a better look. To his amazement it was another rapidash morph. She was selling a little bit of everything. She had tools, bandages, herbs, and weapons. Upon seeing her, his mind flashed back to the visions. He decided to at least say something to her. He spoke a greeting to her in his (or should I say their) native tongue. This startled her to no end, since his features were obscured by his cloak. That is of course except for the faint glow his mane produced. She immediately asked him to remove his hood (in their native tongue). He obliged her, and she was instantly smitten by his good looks. After a brief introduction and a summary of the events that led him here, They agreed to meet somewhere over dinner. Later that night over dinner, she mentioned that she was studying over at Seaview University. The shop was just a side job. He listened with great interest to her life story. She was deeply moved by his kindness toward the injured charmander. They agreed to become friends and to keep it that way until they got to know each other better. By the time Flameaton had returned to his room in the tavern, he had a new sensation. He finally felt complete. He found what he had been lacking all of this time. A friend.
TBC
This story is dedicated jani_eevee. Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed your pic. Thanks again.
ã Kat http://www.angelfire.com/or2/kataryna/index2.html Based on the story "Pookamon" by Kat