So, here-a we go, the third installment. There IS Marth material inside, for those of you who are wondering…As well as s'more from the first installment (I decided that, since they're really just groups of page-ish long perspectives, 'chapter' isn't really very fitting). I hope you enjoy.


For a creature so un-athletic in appearance, Jigglypuff was actually quite fast and nimble. Her short feet trotted rapidly across the treacherous terrain of the Spire, carrying her past natural and unnatural dangers. Occasionally she would turn and look behind her, paranoid with the fear of the trainer—or trainers, as it might be—finding her.

There were things in the Spire that seemed abnormal, but Jigglypuff was not about to stop and investigate now; not with what seemed to be a much larger danger following her.

Jigglypuff was running down a long hallway when a deep noise—a combination of a croak, a bark, and a growl—emanated from the shadows in front of her. She stopped fearfully, gazing into the darkness ahead. She gulped in fear, not only for the fear of a fight, but also knowing that this would slow her down in her flight from the humans.

The beast that emerged from the darkness was short, but large. It appeared to be some form of large reptilian, perhaps a dinosaur, with an opened, blossoming bulb—more accurately, a bud—situated on its wide back.

The Ivysaur, like most of its kin, was territorial, and was not happy to see another pokémon wandering into his territory. There was a distinct hierarchy in the Spire—he was second only to the Charizard, and he grudgingly admitted it only because the winged had an elemental advantage over the Ivysaur, not only with fire, but also flight. Ivysaur had considered, at one time or another, going up against the king of the Spire, but had never actually done so. This Jigglypuff, however, was a different matter…

Jigglypuff would normally be somewhat nervous, and would avoid a fight, but not in this case; now, her freedom was on the line. As the Ivysaur extended its vines, she determinedly raised her stubby fists.


Were where they?

There were many questions in the swordsman's head as he stared out into the dark, gloomy wasteland, but that was probably the largest one.

Sentient life…it was…gone.

It was only himself, alone, in the ruins of a once-glorious castle. Where were those who had defended it? Where were those who had assaulted it? By the looks of things, both factions were long gone…

Why was he here? He wasn't exactly sure, in all honesty. In this new world, where he seemed to have been reincarnated, nothing was certain. Where were the battle-hardened warriors from his past life, his companions? Why were they not here with him, in this desolate place?

Of course, Marth was wondering where his allies were because, by the appearance of the large army of Primid heading towards the castle, he could really use some help.

It was a massive horde; they all moved together towards the fort, perhaps sensing the presence of a living that was not one of their kin. As one, the Primid army strode to the fort, and all Marth could do was watch them come.

He had no artillery or archers to assail them from this distance, and when they got closer, he would have no footsoldiers to meet them. It was just him against this enormous force, which he had no doubt were hostile.

But then…so be it. If he was alone, that did not mean he would not fight. He had become more of a commander during his time in war, but he knew sword combat to the letter. The Falchion had never failed him before, but against these odds, Marth did admit he was not likely to come out alive without help.

So he raised his sword high, goading the Primid further towards him as light shined off of the Falchion's edge.

He stood alone. The last of the brave.


Of all the prey Wolf had ever attacked, this was definitely one of the most aggravating.

For what seemed like an eternity, he had chased after the pink and white ship, attempting to send it down to earth in an explosion of fire. However, the ship had managed to stay airborne, despite several direct hits, and continued in what seemed like a random pattern of directions. Wolf had doggedly (no pun intended) stayed with it, every minute of its survival making him more and more determined to shoot it down, but much to his anger it had suddenly pulled towards the ground, then suddenly bucked upwards—and landed.

He had flown straight past it, and had let out a howl of fury before pulling the Wolfen around and heading towards the landing site. However, much to his further aggravation, the ship had landed inside a deep canyon, and it was impossible for him to blast his quarry into scrap metal from the cockpit of a star-fighter.

And so he had landed, not far off, and headed towards the other ship on foot. He kept his choice tech with him—his blaster the natural first choice—and, with no scent to follow, all he could do was trust his memory.

He was in the shade of a massive Spire, a twisting sort of stalagmite rising from the earth. Whatever purpose his quarry had for landing here, he did not know, but he would consider asking the being upon encounter; he was going to make its last moments painful as retribution for the long air-chase.

He finally reached the deep, moving trench on the far side of the Spire—closer to the sea—and looked down. It was about forty feet deep, and twenty feet wide; however, a short distance ahead of him, there was a short widening in the trench; it appeared similarly to a coagulation of blood in a vein. In this slight bulge was the ship, standing vertically with two cockpits on the side.

Wolf growled as he saw it, not seeing a possible pilot anywhere in sight. He began to slowly and warily make his way down the steep side of the trench, stepping from one jutting rock to the next. Eventually, he landed on the rocky, dusty ground below, and began to stride towards the cargo ship, one hand close to his holster.

He was thirty feet away…nothing moved near the ship as he proceeded forward. Twenty feet away, nothing…fifteen feet, nothing…ten…

As he took what seemed like his five-hundreth step in the canyon, there was a high pitched war cry. A small creature—completely red, with a nose, stem, and flower on top—jumped out of the bottom of the ship and dashed at him. Quick on the draw, Wolf whipped out his heavy blaster and fired as the red pikmin leapt at him; the green bolt flew through the air and struck the sentient plant in the torso. It flew back and let out a shriek as Wolf put his blaster back, making sure not to cut his thigh on the sharp bayonet. The creature hit the ground and seemed to fade, a red-tinted spirit rising into the air in a mournful fashion as the only, quickly fading memory of a lone pikmin.

Wolf gave a huff of disappointment; the creature had gone down easily. Was it possible that that plant had been the pilot—or, since there were two separate cockpits on the ship, one of the pilots? He doubted it—it was more likely it was some sort of indigenous creature, and that the true owner of the ship had fled down the trench.

And so he would follow the trench…


Jigglypuff pressed on, dashing past the overturned trophy of the territorial Ivysaur; she would have freed it, but perhaps a single pokémon would be enough to appease the humans…

It was not a very kind thing to do, but she did not want to get captured. Plus, the Ivysaur had gotten in her way—and beaten her up pretty badly, too, before she dealt the battle's final blow. She continued on until she saw a series of platforms in front of her.

Almost instantly, the feeling of dread incorporated with the unnatural beings filled her senses—she knew that they were close, and, for the first time since she had seen the Pokémon Trainer, she was worried about more than just being captured.

She couldn't continue; even if the beings didn't stop her, Charizard surely would. She couldn't turn back because of the trainer. She couldn't jump down into the abyss below the platforms because the fall would likely be the end of her.

The expression 'between a rock and a hard place' rarely gets such effective use.

Jigglypuff grimly decided that she could only go in one direction, and began to climb the side of the nearby wall.


I've decided that I'll probably do a little more on Marth in the future, mainly because I feel this part wasn't good enough by itself.

I was over at a friend's house and was able to play quite a few levels of the Emissary—I must say, the simplicity of the Canyon level has its charm. Also, just for the record, I HATE RAYQUAZA'S ATTACK STYLE WITH A FLAMING PASSION. I think I fought it with, like, Olimar (personal best and favorite), Diddy (second), Luigi (I'm okay…I guess…), and Ganondorf (I'm terrible with him; probably one of my worst characters in the game). Only Luigi came out alive, and I was only on hard mode. I made some stupid errors, let me tell you…

Also, to those who sent me things on who they use/who they like, if you are wondering…The experiment itself started when I said that people usually like their best character, but may have a favorite character that is not their best one, and he was like, "Nah," and I was like, "O RLY?" …So yeah, drop a review on the way out, if you please.