Timburr and Conkeldurr

His hands were too small to fully grip the log. Find the right balance point. And the log was taller than himself, making it even more awkward to wield. Get a good hold so that it would slip. But it was tradition and if he was to be accepted by his peers, he had to get this right. Jump and flip the log so that it came smashing down on the head of his target. He hit it an inch from the center, causing the scarecrow dummy to get knocked to the side.

The ground throbbed with the pounding of a concrete pillar, even larger than the log he was wielding. The tan mass of a Conkeldurr loomed over him, his black eyes as stern and unimpressed as ever. "Aim for the center," he repeated in his rough deep voice.

As the scarecrow dummy sprang back into place, the Timburr felt his blood burn in anger. The master could at least acknowledge that he was hitting the target now. When he'd first joined this training, he had been clumsy enough to hit himself with his own weapon. And being the apprentice to such a famous fighter wasn't what he thought it would be. All of the exercises were repetitions, performing the attacks over and over again until some spoken or unspoken condition had been met. Then it was on to the next repetition. The Timburr hadn't even had a proper battle in all this time.

Maybe he needed to do something more to prove himself to the Conkeldurr. He looked to his master, a Pokémon that had a bulky torso, but such small legs that he used two immense concrete pillars to support himself with when walking. Seeing that almost caused the Timburr to wish that he wouldn't evolve that far. It seemed like such an obvious weakness.

Weakness. Impulsively, he got hold on his log again, but this time he swung it horizontally, aiming to sweep his master's legs. That would show him that even the most powerful weren't invulnerable.

To the Timburr's shock, the Conkeldurr let go of his pillars and hopped over the attack. The master then grabbed his weapons and turned them into a gray blur before pounding the ground on either side of the Timburr. While that attack hadn't even hit him, the Timburr stumbled back onto the ground from the force of the impact.

The master snorted, then swung himself back with his pillars. "Focus on your lesson," he said.

Feeling embarrassed at his rashness, the Timburr got back onto his feet and picked up his weapon again. He wasn't ready to truly challenge his master yet. But someday, he would be ready, and he would win.

…

Timburr Black entry: It fights by swinging a piece of lumber around. It is close to evolving when it can handle the lumber without difficulty.

Conkeldurr White entry: They use concrete pillars as walking canes. They know moves that enable them to swing the pillars freely in battle.

Conkeldurrs apparently taught humans to make concrete too... so they're not dumb brutes!