ADDED: Hi there new readers and old! Later on in the story I realized that my writing style had changed a bit (just a bit). When I look back and read some of the earlier ones it feels a bit choppy to me... so perhaps one day I'll come back and rewrite parts of it, but for now I have to carry on with the plot XD Still, what I'm saying is, I hope you give this one a chance, because it does get better later on.
Cheers!
Canyx
Wow, I've been dead on this site for a while… still, here's a story that came to my head one day a few months back, and I've been working on it ever since. If any of you are familiar with Brian Jacques' Redwall series, yes, the style of this is very similar to his (explains why the Redwall series are my fav books : ) I did not intentionally copy any of his stuff though. (Skipper means "captain: the naval officer in command of a military ship" so I thought that would be a fitting name…)
Hm, I'm interested in how this story will do, more parts to come later on : )
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon
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Thunder and lightning pounded relentlessly in the sky while the ocean waves attacked the shoreline. One could barely make out the soaked figures clambering ashore. There were two of them, a Buizel and a Totodile, both weary and cold, but alive.
"The Pollywoggle, they sunk her, Skip!" The Totodile looked out to sea, where a large pirate ship loomed in the distance, a sinking pile of splinters, what was left of the Pollywoggle, in its wake.
The Buizel, Skipper, flashed his friend a brief smile, "Aye, Flint, that they did. But we're still alive, matey. We'll find a way out of this."
Flint nodded. Skip had never let them down before. The two survivors turned away from the wreckage at sea, and headed deeper into the island.
-O-O-
-O-O-
There was no sign of life. Smoldering huts and stalls littered the area along with broken down carts and other debris. The storm had ceased for the moment, but another dark cloud hovered dangerously close to the island, threatening to burst any second. A sudden wind caused the tattered curtains of houses to flutter eerily, and blew leaves and paper across the flooded, cobblestone streets. Flint and Skipper noted that there were no bodies. It seemed as though the town had been deserted, no doubt due to the pirates just offshore.
Skipper advanced cautiously with rapier in paw. Likewise, Flint followed his friend soundlessly, firmly grasping one of his short throwing knives. Skipper suddenly stopped and motioned for Flint to listen. They heard it, a rustling sound around the corner. Carefully, the two edged along the wall of an abandoned fruit stall and took a peek around the bend.
The Buizel almost sighed with relief; it was only a young Squirtle, who seemed to be salvaging apples and pears from the wrecked market. Skip tucked the rapier into the rope around his waist and held his paws up disarmingly as he approached the turtle. The Squirtle had his back turned, and didn't see the sea weasel behind him.
Skip cleared his throat, "Ahem, ahoy there!"
In an instant, the tiny turtle gasped, jumped, and disappeared into his shell. Skipper and Flint sighed exasperatedly.
Smiling sheepishly, Skipper crouched and knocked on the shaking carapace, "Look, mate, we're not pirates!"
"Well, not the bad kinds anyways…" muttered Flint.
Skipper quickly stepped on the gator's tail.
"Yowch! Ye didn't have to do that, Skip!"
The Buizel turned back to the still hiding turtle, "What my loud mouthed friend meant was, we won't hurt you, so why doncha come out and talk to us, friend?"
"Why don't you stand up and explain yourself?"
Skipper sprang up and turned, only to find the tip of a rapier at his throat. Holding it was a young and bonny Vaporeon maid. She had a cool expression on her face, and held her blade steady.
Flint leapt forward at once, holding his knife by the tip, ready to throw. "Put that toy down, missy, or I'll lay this twixt your pretty eyes." He meant every word of it. Maiden or not, no one touches his friend.
"Lower that arm or lose it," growled a deep voice.
Flint chanced a backward glance. Behind him stood a lithe looking Golduck, saber pointed at the back of the Totodile's neck.
Skipper chuckled, "Looks like they've got us mate. Put down that knife, Flint."
"A wise choice, sir," smiled the Vaporeon, as Flint glowered and sheathed his weapon.
Skip sighed, "Look, friends, we're not pirates. My friend Flint and I were in our dinghy when some pirates blasted us with their cannons. Our boat's scrap, but we made it to shore. We're only looking for help." He saw the turtle come out of his shell and grab his bag of fruit fearfully. Skipper nodded to him, "And I didn't mean to scare ye, my apologies."
The Vaporeon lowered her rapier and let out a breath of relief, "Oh thank goodness, those pirates have already pillaged this town in and out. It used to be a merchant port, see. Many traders would come through here. When the pirates came, everyone evacuated. We," she motioned to herself, the Squirtle, and the Golduck, who still didn't lower his saber, "are just a few stragglers, stuck on this island because the pirates are still patrolling the coasts… put that blade down, Dorian!"
The Golduck glared at Skipper and Flint suspiciously, but finally put away his deadly sword. The two friends let out collective sighs.
The Vaporeon chuckled and shook her head, "That's Dorian. The young one here is called Tottle. And I'm Torq." She curtsied gracefully.
Skip flashed them all a roguish grin, "I'm Skipper, and Flint here's my best mate…" Before he could continue, however, gunshots and raucous laughter rang out from the streets.
"This way," muttered Dorian. The group disappeared into the alleyways, and the place turned into a ghost town once more.
-O-O-
-O-O-
They took refuge in an abandoned inn. It was boarded up and dimly lit, exuding the atmosphere of an olden hangout.
Tottle approached a fat Slowpoke who was working hastily at the stove, and handed him the bag of fruit, "Here ya go, Buso. I found these lying around."
The cook, called Buso, quickly upended the bag, deftly chopped up its contents, and dropped them into a frying pan, not once looking away from the stove.
"Buso, we have two new guests here!" Torq called out in a sweet voice.
The sizzling of oil and vittles roared as Buso slowly glanced around, acknowledged the newcomers with a yawn, and shuffled back to his work.
"Not much of a talker, eh?" Flint asked.
Torq chortled, "No, but he's a real sweetie all the same."
It might have been the heat of the stove, but the cook's cheeks turned bright red. Tottle, Torq, and Flint laughed as Buso worked even harder at his station. Skipper grinned, glad that they'd found allies in this ruined city. He glanced aside and saw that Dorian was hunched over a wooden table, studying something. Curious, Skipper approached him.
Before them lied an elaborate map of the town and its coasts, every street and store labeled.
"Ah, a way out."
The Golduck shook his head, "That's what I'm looking for, kid. But the coasts are well guarded."
Skipper studied the numerous symbols of ships scattered along the coastline.
Dorian continued, "It's been two weeks. We can always wait for them to leave, but then what? Argh!" he pounded the table with his fists. "They've burned most of the wood on this island. So we'd be stuck here, starving to our deaths."
Skipper nodded, stroking his chin thoughtfully, "Tell me about their ships."
The Golduck raised his eyebrows at the young Buizel, then with his claw circled a large shape on the coast from which Skipper and Flint came, "This one, the one that got the two of you, is the largest of the fleet. The captain of the lot is probably aboard her." He indicated a cluster of five squares in a bay on the other side of the island. "These are small ships, single square sails and all. They're moored in the bay while their crews infest that part of town. And these," he pointed at a few circles, two or three scattered along either side of the bay's coast, "are decent sized crafts, patrolling up and down the coasts night and day. We're trapped here, kid."
Skipper kept pondering, "Hm… what are their numbers?"
"Too many for us to fight." Dorian smiled ruefully and ran a webbed finger along a scar across his left eye, "One nearly blinded me a few days back." His expression turned stern again, "Face it, there's nothing for us to do but wait for them to leave and hope for the best."
The Buizel grinned, a plan forming in his head, "You do that, matey. Meanwhile, I'll take the rest of them, steal a ship, and sail on out of here! Our little Pollywoggle was too small for my liking anyways."
Dorian looked at Skipper incredulously. The whole room was silent, having heard their discussion. Even Buso stopped his cooking and turned to stare at the sea weasel. Then, Dorian actually laughed.
"Hahahaha! That easy, eh? Go ahead, steal your little ship! Hahaha!"
Skipper merely shrugged and turned to the rest, "Alright mateys! Listen here, 'cause this is what we've gotta do…"
"Hold it!" Dorian slowly rose, pulling his saber from his sash. "Don't be daft, kid. It's impossible! If you want to risk your life trying to be brave, so be it. But yer not dragging the rest of us into this! You ain't captain around here!"
Skipper drew his rapier and stepped forward, "I'll be captain and get us all out of here, while you sit here and mope your sorry self away, old timer." He flashed that roguish smile of his.
Dorian growled and advanced. The two circled each other warily.
"I wouldn't cross swords with Skip, mate." Flint warned.
Buso went back to his cooking and Tot ran to watch behind Torq, who simply rolled her eyes, "Ugh, boys… just don't chop each other up too badly, k? We need to save these bandages…"
Dorian held his saber out in a defensive stance as he circled his opponent, studying him. Skipper followed the Golduck's stride jauntily, twirling the rapier in his paw.
"Fool," muttered Dorian. He struck! "On guard, ye sea rascal!"
But Skip moved with lightning speed as he parried the attack, "Haha! So close, but not quite!"
The two stood their ground with swords locked, and Skipper ran his rapier edge along the saber's, savoring the metallic song it created.
"You taunting me?" Dorian flared, flashing forward with a barrage of swipes.
Skipper countered them all effortlessly, skipping around the room as the Golduck tried to pin him. And then…
"Enough!" Skipper roared, the childish look on his face replaced with the frosty glare of a sea captain. Now it was his turn, as he went towards Dorian with one arm held steady, the other making his rapier dance like a butterfly on the wind. The blade moved in a blur, and there was a reverberating clanking sound as the two swords clashed.
Dorian was taken aback by the skill of his adversary and was being pushed back by the young Buizel. Then, slap! The flat of the rapier rapped against the Golduck's claws, causing him to drop his saber. Thwock! In a trice, Skipper dealt him a heavy blow across the ankles with his tail, causing Dorian to fall backwards. The rapier was pointing at his heart now.
The room was silent. Buso didn't even notice the contents of his frying pan burning, as he watched the two with mouth agape, a string of drool slowly dripping out. Torq stood with arms crossed, a look of shock across her face. Tot's eyes gleamed with admiration. Only Flint was not surprised.
"I told ye you shouldn't have challenged ol' Skipper!" he scoffed.
The sea weasel tossed his rapier up and caught it, putting it back into his belt. He extended a paw, "We're on the same side, Dorian. I can get us out of here. Trust me." He sounded more serious than the Golduck ever thought this rogue could be.
"You, are full of surprises… Captain." Dorian smiled as claws clasped paw in friendship.
Skipper helped his new ally up and handed him back his saber. He turned to the group, "Everybeast be ready by nightfall! Buso, me old cook, can you pack enough rations for a good journey?" The cook quickly saluted with his frying pan, his face strained with as much concentration he could muster as the shriveled, burnt remains of the would-be meal splattered on his forehead. Then, he went to work with a speed and ferocity that would make his species proud.
"That's the spirit! On your feet, buckos! We'll be out on open sea by dawn!" Skipper bellowed, the devilish grin back on his face.
"Hahar! That's the Skip I know!" cheered Flint, clapping his friend heartily on his back.
Tottle saluted so enthusiastically that he tumbled backwards and could not get up for a while. When he did, his face was beet red, and he quickly went to find work to do.
"I'll ready the medical supplies, Captain," said Torq, winking at the Buizel as she used his new title.
Skipper, Flint, and Dorian gathered around the map as Skip outlined his plan. The other two listened wide-eyed, for it was a risky plan indeed. But it was their only way out.
The inn was more alive than it had been for weeks.
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Part 2's somewhere on my computer... let's see how this chapter does first though ; )
Thanks for reading!
Canyx