Cinders and Steel
Chapter 1: A New Clan
By: Nevermore Raven
Where am I to begin? Should it be where I was born, or when I was older and my tribe's conflict was first presented to me? Or rather did this story began with my ancestors from long ago, living in an age that has since passed through both reality and memory? Maybe it would be best to start at the very beginning, millenia before my birth... then so it shall be.
My people are an unusual group, as far as lucario are concerned. At the topmost regions of Mount Coronet and her surrounding range in the far North, the Whitecloud tribe came to be. In the region now known as Sinnoh, a new variety of lucario appeared as a result of natural selection, the drive to survive due to the environment and its accompanying chilling climate. Like all lucario, we lived out of reach of human society, but to an even greater degree.
For example, with a standard tribe of forty to fifty individuals about half of the adults would have seen humans at least once in their lifetimes, totaling a dozen witnesses. Not so with the Whitecloud. With this tribe at the peaks, only five members had seen humans at all. The nearest town was a day's journey of travel away, and it was nestled in a valley between two peaks on the ridge. Rumors floated about that the other tribes had each lost a number of children to the humans through the years, mostly from kidnaping. What became of them, a select few claimed the captives joined the humans, as humans almost always had other pokemon with them. Almost nothing was known about the relationship between human and pokemon to the lucario, so it was assumed to overall cause more harm than good to the captives, in addition to the painfully severed family ties.
The life of a lucario isn't an easy one. Although we are top predators by nature, there is always demand to provide food to the pups, find or produce shelter, and maintain a safe environment for the tribe as a whole. Sometimes, tribes would roam for new territory, divide from a parent tribe, merge with another tribe, or engage in conflict, which was rather rare. Thanks to our type nature, lucario are excellent at destroying one another, leading all involved to utter ruin. The darkest day of the year is when the Whitecloud revive the story of our ancestors almost getting wiped from existence thanks to a conflict with the neighbors, and the story was passed on from generation to generation to serve as an eerie example.
We had adapted with several traits that are seen amongst the mammals of the far north tundra, such as the arctic fox in particular. We are larger than other lucario. Our ears, though prominent, are smaller than our more common counterparts. That was in order to reduce heat loss from the head as members of the tribe scouted amongst the land of coniferous trees, bogs, and snow-covered peaks at the top of the world, at the slight loss of hearing accuracy.
We also have two fur coats; one is for the warmer season, producing dull shades of grey and brown. It is natural camouflage, matching us to the brown forest floor of pine needles and peat moss. The second coat is denser, a glaring white, as new fallen snow. The added camouflage has caused an already efficient hunter to possess an added degree of stealth, both for ambush and hiding in the snow-drifts and blankets of white.
There are those amongst us who hold the belief the tribe descended directly from the heavens considering our cloudy white fur, sky blue eyes and the great height of our mountain range, but that is an old coat of ivory down is our tribe's namesake, and we always hold great pride in regard to it.
Finally, the black shoulder cuffs that are common among this specie is entirely absent in the Whiteclouds, as is the sharp protrusion over the heart and wrists that is often seen on other lucario. In the cold subarctic climate of Sinnoh's northern end and the highlands there simply is no evolutionary advantage to having a pike of steel smack in the middle of the chest; rather it turns out to be a detrimental characteristic as is the same for the black iron shoulder cuffs. We have been without them as far back as the sages and elders can remember and don't miss them anyway.
The reason for the omission of chest spike and shoulder cuffs is twofold. First the additional attachments proved a burden as they served as heat sinks. They increased surface area and had no fatty tissue or fur on them and extended from the torso directly, conducting heat away from the heart as metals often love to do. Secondly, piling together to keep warm is an effective method to combat the winter frost, and it's at best doubtful that a ball of ferrous spines would be considered as particularly cuddly. The eldest mother of the tribe, Laurel, reminded us of the lines from a short poem she had learned in her youth...
A heart and hands of sharp cold steel are left alone.
For the Cloud Tribe knows warm hearts will endure.
Through the winter's worst.
This adaptation has saved the tribe itself, and gave us an appreciated bonus in regards to bonding. On the occasion we meet other lucario, they were puzzled at noticing our selective traits. Other tribes only behold us in bewilderment, typically turning attention to our greater size and the lack of natural armor on our adult bodies and responding with either shame on our behalf, or mockery at our 'peculiar' appearance. But the Clouds know better... The absence of iron extremities is a multifaceted blessing, and nothing less.
After hundreds of years passed, a second group set out from the Whiteclouds and wandered to the South, eventually finding its way into the Johto region. That group is my clan, and we had settled the valley just northwest of Mount Mortar and the Lake of Rage, with an ancient city about a dozen miles to the south. The first humans of Johto hail from there, and the city is now renowned for housing two legendary guardians, one of storms, the other of sunlight.
The region is populated with hardwood forest, swathes of oak, walnut, hickory, and maple that take part in a grand autumn display of gold, warm browns, and fiery scarlet among the evergreen pines. The spectacle I witness every year reminds me that Mother Nature is the greatest artist of all; to her none can compare.
Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Fluff. I have a twin brother, named Shade. The two of us blend into the white landscape without difficulty in the winter, but in spring and summer, the both of us stand out compared to our companions. We both boast ebony coats, yet that is not all. Our eyes complement one another, as I have fiery ruby eyes and Shade has eyes of cool, blue-green crystal.
The reason for our unique colors is rather elusive, so the clan concluded that we were two shiny, or miscolored, pokemon. What else could they do? After all, everyone was aware of shiny pokemon found now and then in other species, and no other explanation could even begin to make any sense. If it were by chance or by fate, no one knew for sure.
My mother is Icicle, and my father is Glacier. Save for the presence of two black riolu in summer, our family looks remarkably like all of the others. As such, scent and aura are used to identify members of the clan, rather than wasting time hassling with a visual game of guess.
The decision to move southward has provided the southern clan with blessings and hardships alike. For one, the diversity of life found here is considerably greater than back north, and there is more food available from both plant and animal, as the climate is relatively more forgiving than our ancestor's homeland. The topography varying between valley and surrounding mountains, fields and forests, provides a richer habitat promoting bio diversity thanks to changes in the regional climates.
The area north of the Old City has very little in regards to human population, as the vast majority of Johto's humans live south of Mount Mortar. The largest town around here is the humble settlement of Walnut. Its name is in lieu with the traditional naming of towns and cities in Johto, as all of them involve plants. Olivine. Goldenrod. Blackthorn. Azalea. Violet. The small human presence found here is fine by us. But that is where the blessings end.
Opposite the Lake of Rage in the central valley, out to the east north of Blackthorn, a tribe of Ninetales call the region home. This in itself is not a problem. The catch is that for the past two-hundred years, the Whitecloud tribe has been locked in conflict with Goldflame, the large family of kitsune. My first memory of learning about the conflict was in the presence of my parents and Laurel...
The whole ordeal began with a curse. One of my direct ancestors, Quartz, was cursed by a Ninetales. The venerable Laurel explained to me that her grandmother witnessed the casting of the curse, and its dreadful result.
My humble family of four individuals, Shade, our two parents, and myself, were welcomed into Laurel's home to share a meal with the beloved elder. Settling down at the fire in the middle of the dwelling of warm skins, we were shared a meal of berries and roasted meat, seasoned with coarse salt and shoots of wild mint.
Since I was much younger than now I missed details, as children always do. But while I snacked on a bright red leppa berry, Laurel made a statement that I still remember. The golden glimmer of the fire danced upon her face as she recalled the event, as told to her by Sleet...
"Quartz, the brave warrior of our tribe, suffered a terrible fate. An evil fox by the name of Scout had cursed him, turning him into stone. Although I saw what was left of Quartz, I can't remember his whereabouts, and wonder if his statue is still where it was left on that day. I still don't understand why Scout cursed Quartz in the way he did, but I do know it has started a feud between Whitecloud and Goldfire that has spanned generations as a result. Untold suffering has plagued Flame and Cloud alike, thanks to actions from two souls long ago. It would take cooperative actions on both sides of the conflict for peace to ensue, or to forget it altogether. But that is hard to do, as the wounds have grown quite deep. When will that day arrive, if ever?"
At the elder's conclusion of the story, thunder grumbled from a distance. A smile flashed on Laura's lips. "The four of you best get on home. Seems the weather is taking a turn for the worse." The four guests rose and bowed in courtesy to the elder, thanking her for the meal and shelter.
Upon leaving the warmth and comforting glow of the fire, the hillside of trees shivered from the gusts of an arriving storm. Thunder bellowed in the distance as dark blue clouds drifted ominously overhead. Our village was just at the edge of the forest, looking out to the grassy meadow and river below.
Back at our own shelter, I lay awake beside my twin, staring at the orange flicker of our own fire within a ring of stones in the middle of the dwelling. I decided right then that I would return to Laurel to ask her further details concerning the conflict. But the sun had set an hour before, and the rain outside hammered on our tent without any sign of letting up. Wind caused the skin to vibrate, although its own noise didn't stand out in comparison to the rain itself.
Thunder startled me from my thoughts as I jumped in surprise. As the echoes refrained in the aftermath, my mind drifted back to the discussion with Laurel and the curse. The lucario who had been cursed was my ancestor. And he was cursed by a Ninetales two hundred years ago. That was all I knew about it. Well, the curse and the continued feud it had birthed as a result. I had never seen the conflict or heard of it until that day, but once it was brought to light I could sense its impact everywhere in the following months. Secondly, I knew nothing of the Goldflame family, not their habits, not their form, not their fighting style... An unidentified foe can be especially dangerous.
While releasing a yawn I reached out to cuddle with my black fuzz-ball brother and I watched as cool blue-green eyes peered at me quizzically for a moment. Only then Shade followed suit and embraced me, drawing closer. The collective warmth from said mass of black fluff soothed my mind, and the hushed whisper of Shade's breathing carried me off to sleep. "Cuddly..." I whispered before closing my eyes.
Next chapter: Bittersweet
Side by side we turned towards camp while Laurel continued to tickle me sporadically, forcing laughter from my lungs. She excused herself in the name of my soft belly and small giggles. That evening is without a doubt my fondest memory of the Tribe Mother.